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WILLIAM UPDICK: 


His Philosophy 



New York and Washington 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING CO. 

1908 





UBKARY of CONGRESS, 
f wo Copies KeceivM 

' JUL,8 ^ 






Copyright, 1908, by 
The Neale Publishing Company 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

I. 

Street and Court 

9 

11 . 

Industrial and Social Conditions . 

II 

III. 

The Crisis ..... 

14 

IV. 

The Strike Is On .... 

23 

V. 

Mr. Poofer Appears upon the Scene 

25 

VI. 

Mr. Poofer Meets Miss Cunster 

28 

VII. 

Mr. Poofer Spends the Evening with 



Miss Cunster .... 

32 

VIII. 

Mr. Updick Gives Some Practical 



. Advice ..... 

37 

IX. 

Caught ...... 

44 

X. 

The Strikers Become Desperate . 

53 

XI. 

The Meeting of the Strikers 

59 

XII. 

Mr. Finby Appears .... 

72 

XIII. 

Mr. Updick Has Something Practical 



to Say ...... 

78 

XIV. 

The Improved Industrial Conditions . 

85 

XV. 

The Wedding ..... 

87 

XVI. 

Stormy Times ..... 

94 

XVII. 

A Separation . . . . . 

lOI 

XVIII. 

Which is the Last .... 

no 



CHAPTER I 


Street and Court 

Brandywine Street and Temperance Court 
were opposed the one to the other; and quite 
properly so, if there be anything in a name. 

It would be quite far from the truth, how- 
ever, to say that the majority of those who 
lived in Temperance Court were temperate, 
or that all who lived on Brandywine Street 
were tipplers, for there were drinking men 
and women, and many of them, too, in the 
Court; and some, although not many, it is 
tnie, of the people living on the Street who 
were sober and decent. Moreover, there were 
five saloons, dram shops and groggeries 
rather, in Temperance Court, which was 
but two blocks long; and there was a tem- 
perance hotel, a shabby and ill-patronized 
place, it must be confessed, at the lower end 
of Brandywine Street. 

There was not the best of feeling between 
the women of the Street and those of the 


lo William Updick: His Philosophy 

Court. Prejudice and ill-feeling were strong; 
and in consequence quarrels between neigh- 
bors were bitter and of frequent occurrence. 
Mrs. Cunster, of the Street, would hold her 
head high and draw in her skirts as she 
passed Mrs. Puyder, of the Court; or Mrs. 
Boveen would give Mrs. Cunster some impu- 
dence; or Mrs. Probenster at her window 
would make faces at Mrs. Kennelling while 
the latter was hanging up the week’s wash in 
her little back yard; or Mrs. Flannery would 
shake her fist in Mrs. Rusic’s face as they 
met in the alley, between the Court and the 
Street. Then these troubles, exaggerated 
fourfold, would be poured into the ears of 
husbands, fathers, brothers, and sons when 
they came home from work, and thus the 
men, who were generally friendly enough 
among themselves, would sometimes be drawn 
into these strifes, and many a row in the 
groggeries was occasioned by the home recital 
of these exaggerated slights and wrongs. 


CHAPTER II 


Industrial and Social Conditions 

If the social conditions of the Court and 
the Street were unsatisfactory, the industrial 
conditions, limiting that term as affecting the 
workingmen only, were even worse. 

There was little trouble, indeed, to secure 
work in the rolling mills and factories, all of 
which were running on full time, and often 
overtime, too, to fill the large rush orders 
that came in. But while work was to be had, 
wages were low, “starvation wages” the 
workingmen called them; and rest days were 
few and far between. It was work, work, 
work, grind, grind, grind, from Sunday morn- 
ing to Sunday morning. And it was ten hours 
a day, from seven o’clock in the morning to 
six in the evening, with an hour off at noon; 
or the same length of time for those on night 
turn; and frequently overtime, too, until nine 
o’clock at night, or nine in the morning, ac- 
cording as the men worked by day or by 
night, and with but little extra pay for extra 


12 William Updick: His Philosophy 

time. The wages of ordinary workmen were 
a dollar and a quarter a day, and those who 
received such wages could afford to live on 
Brandywine Street. But there were those 
who did the roughest work, and hard work it 
was, too, who were paid but one dollar a 
day, and some of them received even less, 
and were of necessity compelled to live in 
Temperance Court, or in a similar crowded 
and noisome neighborhood, for in this sectioii 
of the great city race suicide was as far from 
actual fulfillment as was the thought of it. 

As a result of these conditions those who 
should have lived in comfort upon the wages 
they fairly earned and were justly entitled to, 
were compelled, because of the cupidity of 
their employers, to live in poverty and dis- 
tress. 

Children barefooted and scantily clad even 
in the coldest weather; women half clothed 
and half shod; men ragged and unkempt; 
houses much out of repair, sagging and de- 
caying, were all striking evidences of the 
pinching poverty that had settled down upon 
those who were helping to make rich their 


Industrial and Social Conditions 13 

employers, their city, their State, their 
country. 

Lawlessness? Of course. What else 
could be expected under such conditions? If 
one law of the Decalogue be broken, why 
not another, why not every one? And was 
not the example of the employers, men who 
seemed to regard the rights neither of God 
nor man, ever before them ? So these poor, op- 
pressed people might have logically reasoned. 
But they did not reason, they acted. And so 
all the laws. Divine and human, were ruth- 
lessly trampled under foot; not, of course, by 
every one of these poor people, for there 
were some who, in the midst of poverty and 
wretchedness and evil environment, main- 
tained their integrity and virtue. 

Gambling hells, dens of infamy, grogger- 
ies, dives, ruining men and women, body, and 
mind, and soul, infested and blighted the 
whole neighborhood. And all of these 
places of evil resort, with the collusion of 
policemen and of those higher in authority, 
were open day and night, week-day and Sun- 
day. As a result sin abounded, evil of every 
sort and degree was practised, and crimes of 
the darkest sort were of frequent occurrence. 


CHAPTER III 


The Crisis 

Of course, general discontent prevailed 
among the workingmen. There were mutter- 
ings of a gathering storm. Men met in little 
groups at street corners or in saloons, cursed 
their employers, discussed the situation, and 
considered plans for relief. 

The need of the hour was a leader, one 
who might combine, control and guide this 
unorganized mass of men and lead them out 
of bondage into liberty. Such a leader ap- 
peared in the person of William Updick, 
shortened by his associates into Billy Updy, 
in appearance tall, broad-shouldered, light- 
haired, blue-eyed, a handsome bachelor of 
fifty, upon whom apparently no impression 
had been made by his landlady, Mrs. Torkey, 
a buxom widow of forty or thereabouts, 
whose home on Brandywine Street gave food 
and shelter to half a dozen or more men of 
the mill. She, however, seemed to care 


The Crisis 


15 

only for Mr. Up dick, for whom she cher- 
ished and displayed an ardent affection, 
much to the amusement of her boarders, who 
rigged Mr. Updick constantly upon his good 
fortune in having caught the eye and the 
heart of the widow Torkey, and they advised 
him to embrace the opportunity, which “op- 
portunity” was of nearly two hundred 
pounds’ weight, hasten the courtship and 
precipitate the marriage, all of which he took 
good naturedly enough. 

A born leader of men was William Updick ; 
a man of little schooling, but of considerable 
knowledge of the picked-up sort, for he had 
traveled about the country a good deal, and 
through hearsay, and observation, and experi- 
ence had gathered many bits of wisdom 
which he had stored away in his memory, 
carefully labelled and ready for use when 
needed. Moreover, he was naturally quick- 
witted, and something of a philosopher, too, 
in his way, a man of great heart, warm im- 
pulses, quick sympathy, helpful disposition — 
a man, therefore, well-known, popular, and 
beloved among the working people, and 
ever known an respected by foremen and 


1 6 William Updick: His Philosophy 

employers. * Here, then, was just the man for 
the time; just the man to meet the crisis, to 
control the seething mass, to gather, combine, 
and organize the scattered forces of labor 
and lead on to victory. 

Himself feeling keenly the hardships he 
suffered through injustice, and observing the 
yet greater hardships endured by others, the 
great soul of this good man was stirred within 
him, his sympathies were aroused for his fel- 
low-sufferers, and his indignation was kindled 
against those who were responsible for such 
misery; and now, seizing the opportunity, he 
assumed leadership by gathering together a 
number of his friends and suggesting to them 
the advisability of calling a meeting of all the 
workingmen in the city to consider plans and 
take immediate steps for the improvement of 
their condition. The suggestion offered was 
received with great enthusiasm, and Mr. Up- 
dick, by common consent, was chosen to pre- 
side at the meeting and talk to the men on 
the subject of their grievance. 

Word was quickly passed through every 
factory and mill in the city, and at the time 
appointed the public hall of the neighbor- 


The Crisis 


17 


hood, capable of accommodating fifteen hun- 
dred men or more, was filled to overflowing. 

As William Updick came upon the plat- 
form and looked out over the mass of rude, 
excited men, his heart failed him for an in- 
stant; only for an instant, however, for he 
had faith in God, faith in himself, and faith 
in the righteousness of their cause — and 
faith makes strong. Strong, therefore, he 
appeared before the great assembly while loud 
cheers and discordant shouts and calls rolled 
and roared through the great hall, up to the 
rafters and down again in confusing echoes. 
Never before had the old walls looked upon 
such a scene of disorder. And amid the up- 
roar, as a great rock in a tumultuous sea, stood 
the leader, calm and unmoved, his hand up- 
raised, waiting for silence. 

At last — it seemed an hour to the man 
waiting to be heard, though in reality it was 
not more than a few moments — comparative 
quiet was restored, and as the speaker pro- 
ceeded in his vigorous and telling speech the 
men listened attentively, and quietly too, save 
as some telling point made roused them to 
enthusiastic demonstration. For half an hour 


1 8 William Updick: His Philosophy 

or more the speaker held and swayed his 
audience at will — a tremendous power, but in 
this instance a power used effectively and well. 

“My boys,’’ he began, “you kin starve on 
nothin’, but you and your famblies can’t live 
on nothin’. And me and you’s gittin’ precious 
near nothin’ fer all the hard work we’s a 
doin’. They’s many of you thet’s run down at 
the heel; and those of you thet’s got wives 
and childrens looks at ’em ev’ry day in their 
rags and wretchedness. We works like dogs, 
and we’s treated like slaves. Thet’s it in a 
nuthull. 

“I ain’t got a word to say fer these lazy 
loafers round here thet’s alus a complainin’. 
They don’t deserve livin’ wages; and starwa- 
tion wages’s too good fer ’em. And as fer 
you boys as spends your earnin’s, or the best 
of ’em, fer drink, I ain’t got no better word 
fer you neither. You goes a paradin’ about 
in a zig-zag way thet’s not werry pleasin’ nor 
commendin’ neither. I’m not a talkin’ to 
lazy, drinkin’ loafers, but to you boys who’s 
stiddy and sober. Now listen partickler to 
wot I’ve got to say. 

“We’s bein’ robbed. Robbed! Robbed 


The Crisis 


19 


of our money that we’ve earned by hard 
work, and plenty of it, too. If I’m gettin’ one 
dollar and a quarter a day w’en I’m a-earin’ 
a dollar seventy-five, where’s the fifty? I ain’t 
a gittin’ it. Somebuddy’s robbed me, and got 
my fifty cents. Who is it? Who’s the thief? 
And they says to us, ‘Well, who’s to jedge 
wot’s fair and square? Is’t the workingman 
or the manoofactoorer?’ I says it’s neither. 
Right and jestice’s to decide. Is a man’s ten 
hours’ work worth a dollar twenty-five, or a 
dollar seventy-five? I calls in right and jes- 
tice to say w’ich. I calls upon the unconsarned 
people to rise up and speak w’ich it is, alus 
rememberin’ thet we’s not Dagoes, nor Hun- 
keys, nor Hottentots, but good American citi- 
zens. If we’s to live as them, then a dollar’s 
a fortune ; but we’s Americans, leastways we’s 
here in America, and oughter live like Ameri- 
cans, and wot with high rents and high prices 
fer ev’rythin’ we can’t, with large famblies, 
live much above the brutes on a dollar, or a 
dollar and a quarter, a day. Now can we? 
I puts it to you, can we?” 

Cries of “No, no, we can’t I Shame! 
Shame! Let’s fight for our rights!” came 


20 William Updick: His Philosophy 

from all parts of the house, and there was 
great excitement. But the speaker soon 
calmed the tumult and proceeded with his 
speech. 

“I ain’t got no large fambly, none at all, 
but I’m a speakin’ for you thet has — and the 
most of you has. No, we must have wot we 
earns if the childrens, bless their little hearts, 
’s to be raised up and eddicated as they’s a 
right to be, and the women’s to have wot 
they need. 

“But they’s more to it, my boys. We’s 
robbed of our rest day. Some of us never gits 
a day off.” 

“That’s right, Billy Updy. You’re right 
there! I’m one of ’em.” “And I’m another.” 
“And I’m another,” came from all parts of 
the hall. 

“Yes, some of us never gits a day off ; and 
it’s black looks, and grudgin’ consent, if it 
ain’t wages docked, to git off a day even to 
bury our dead. Some of us’s fortnit enough 
to git a day off onct in a while. But ev’ry 
Sunday’s ours by right. We don’t git it, do 
we?” 

Cries of “No, no, Billy Updy, that we 


The Crisis 21 

don’t,” rolled up to the platform in a mighty 
chorus. 

“You’re right, my boys. We don’t git it. 
That we don’t. And it’s bein’ took from 
us by sheer force, fer not one of us ’ud ever 
give it up of our own free will ’cept mebbe 
to git the petty, but nec’sary pittance thet’s 
ben took from the well-earned six days’ 
wages and put to the seventh. Thet’s 
jist it, my boys. Thet w’ich we oughter git 
fer part of the six days’ work is kep’ back 
from us, and give only as pay fer the seventh 
day’s work, so thet because of the scant wages 
fer the six days’ labor we must be compelled 
to work on the Lord’s day, w’ich I holds to 
be scand’lous. 

“I’m ’titled to one day in ev’ry seven fer 
rest. But I don’t git it, do I? Then some- 
buddy’s a-robbin’ me and keeps me out of my 
rest time. Who is it ? Who’s the thief thet’s 
stole my rest day? 

“So we’s robbed. Robbed of our rightful 
wages, robbed of our rightful weekly day of 
rest. And who’s a-robbin’ me and you? We’s 
not a-robbin’ each other, is we ? Oh I no, my 
boys. Thet’s dare enough, I reckon, without 


22 William Updick: His Philosophy 

further specifications. You know who ’tis, 
and I know. 

“Just wages and Sunday rest, thet’s wot we 
want. And it’s our right, and our due. But 
let’s first go and request thet our rights be 
respicted; but if they won’t hear us then let’s 
up and strike, and strike good and hard, and 
all together, too; but peace’ble, peace’ble, 
mind you; not a rippin’, and a tearin’, and a 
snortin’, and a burnin’. Now’s the time. Let’s 
be up and a doin’ I” 

Amid great cheering and shouting the 
speaker resumed his seat until the excitement 
had spent itself. Then he arose and suggested 
that a committee be appointed to present at 
once their grievances, and their request for 
just wages and Sunday rest, to the proprietors 
of all the mills and factories in the place. The 
committee, of which Mr. Updick was made 
chairman, was appointed as suggested, and 
the meeting adjourned in confusion with en- 
thusiastic cheers for Billy Updy and the sing- 
ing of songs as the men noisily left the room. 


CHAPTER IV 
The Strike Is On 


The request presented by the committee of 
workingmen was refused, their demand 
scorned, and their threat to strike ignored by 
all of the employers alike. 

Great excitement prevailed among the men 
when this became known, and threats of vio- 
lence to the property and persons of the pro- 
prietors were heard on every hand. 

Meantime the committee, of which, of 
course, Mr. Updick was the controlling power, 
set about at once to organize a peaceable 
strike for higher wages and Sunday rest. So 
on the day appointed, at the noon hour, the 
strike was called, and all work in the mills 
and factories of this great manufacturing 
city was suspended. 

The determination to stand firm was ap- 
parent on the countenances of employers and 
employed alike. Evidently a long stubborn 
fight was on, with great suffering to ensue. 


24 William Updick: His Philosophy 

And so it was. Hunger and cold and disease 
prepared the way for Death, who reaped a 
bountiful harvest. Gloom and despair settled 
down upon these poor people as a heavy and 
chilling fog. 

In many of these cheerless homes, how- 
ever, the gloom was lightened somewhat by 
Mr. Updick, who seemed to be ubiquitous, 
ministering as need required, now speaking a 
word of cheer, and encouragement, and hope ; 
now begging bread to feed the starving; now 
paying from his own meagre savings the rent 
of some family about to be evicted; now in- 
fusing among the despairing a spirit of de- 
termination and enthusiasm in the cause they 
had espoused; or restraining the disorderly 
from violence. Many were the women who 
blessed him; many were the children who 
clung to him, and loved him as a father; 
many were the men who were ready to follow 
him even to death, if need be. 

So the days dragged along into weeks, the 
suffering becoming more intense all the while. 
But advance is made by way of suffering and 
death. 


CHAPTER V 


Mr. Poorer Appears upon the Scene 

One of the young workingmen, by name 
James Poofer, became the lieutenant, or secre- 
tary, as you please to call him, of the labor 
leader, William Updick. The two men were 
as devoted to each other as father and son, 
and right well pleased, people said, would 
the young man’s mother have been to have 
married Mr. Updick. She was a widow, past 
her prime indeed, yet still rather good-look- 
ing, and as plump as the far-famed fat-and- 
forty widow. But as much as she would have 
liked to become the wife of Mr. Updick, that 
worthy man, while not averse to making fre- 
quent, and often lengthy, calls at her humble 
home, yet for some reason best known to 
himself, stopped just short of “popping the 
question.” 

Mrs. Poofer and her son, who had got 
along right comfortably together, though each 
might have been more faithful iil duty toward 


26 William Updick: His Philosophy 

the other, occupied three small rooms on the 
third floor of an old house in the Court, 
whose steps creaked and cracked in an alarm- 
ing manner under the frequent heavy tread of 
William Updick. 

Mrs. Poofer took in washing, and James 
worked in the mill under Mr. Updick, who 
had given him the job, though the boy was 
only seventeen and rather young for the place, 
when his father died; and should have been 
earning more than three dollars a week, which 
he was getting as an errand boy in a store. 

The boy’s father and Mr. Updick had been 
friends from boyhood; and it has been said, 
though with what truth we are unable to 
state, that on his death-bed, as on several oc- 
casions before, Mr. Poofer had commended 
his wife and son to his friend, hoping and 
expecting, it was believed, that after his 
death Mr. Updick would become the husband 
of his widow and the father of his only child. 
Indeed, many a day had been fixed and all ar- 
rangements made for the wedding by kindly 
disposed neighbors and friends, but the ap- 
pointed days came and passed without the 


Mr, Poofer Appears 27 

marriage ceremony and wedding feast, to the 
chagrin of these would-be prophets. 

Unlike mother and son in disposition and 
temperament, Mr. Updick had nevertheless 
a warm attachment, or rather a strong affec- 
tion, for both ; and they were both devotedly 
attached to him, as we have said. Mr. Up- 
dick, therefore, quite naturally became the 
chief adviser of the widow and her son, to 
whom the young man looked up with perfect 
confidence, always respectfully listening to his 
admonitions and advice, even if he did not 
heed them ; and the widow was prone to sigh 
in his presence. 


CHAPTER VI 


Mr. Poorer Meets Miss Cunster 

Mr. Cunster, a man of some influence 
among the workingmen, was foreman of a 
“gang” in another mill from that in which 
William Updick was employed, but both men 
were deeply interested in the success of the 
strike. Hence it came about that Mr. Poofer 
was frequently sent by his chief to Mr. Cun- 
ster on business pertaining to the labor 
troubles ; and it was during one of these busi- 
ness calls that he first met Miss Vermilia 
Cunster, a young woman at least five years his 
senior, who merrily flitted into the room, quite 
by mistake of course, and to her confusion, 
quite naturally, and who, after introduction 
and greeting, flitted out of the room singing 
blithely a snatch of a popular love ditty. 

Now Miss Cunster certainly could not be 
called beautiful, neither by actual vision, nor 
yet by any stretch or freak of the imagina- 
tion, for she was tall, slender, angular in 


Mr, Poofer Meets Miss Cunster 29 

form, with irregular features, and coarse 
skin. Her hair was sorrel in color, “deep 
auburn,” she called it — and she vainly strove 
to curl it and adorn it with bows of ribbon of 
the fieriest red. It would seem, then, that 
Miss Cunster had little personal beauty to 
boast of, though she thought she had con- 
siderable, and primped and crinkeled before 
the glass as a belle of the boulevard might 
do. But if she had little personal beauty to 
boast of, neither had she beauty of character 
or disposition to offset her lack of personal 
charms. She was of stubborn will, of blazing 
passions, of fiery temper, of caustic tongue. 

Certain it is that Mr. Poofer was not at- 
tracted by this feminine vision at first sight, 
neither at the second, nor third. But as he 
was sent repeatedly upon errands to her 
father, and he saw the young woman each 
time he called — for by some strange chance 
she always met him at the door, or on the 
sidewalk near her home, always quite unex- 
pectedly, of course — his feeling of repulsion 
gradually faded away beneath her hearty 
greetings and tender smiles. 

And Miss Cunster! With her it was 


30 William Updick: His Philosophy 

nothing less than love at first sight, and she 
confided to one of her very few friends. And 
this is not at all to be wondered at, for Mr. 
Poofer was in appearance just the man to 
charm the eye of any young woman. So far, 
indeed, did Miss Cunster fall in love with the 
young and handsome Mr. Poofer that he was 
continually in her thoughts, and she pined for 
him to such an extent that appetite failed, and 
sleep fled, and nerves jangled, and she be- 
came thinner, and paler, and more irritable, 
and really was in quite a bad way. 

Soon after the first appearance of Mr. 
Poofer at her home. Miss Cunster began to 
take her exercise out of doors every day, 
morning and afternoon, for half an hour, con- 
fining her walk, strangely enough, from 
the second corner above her home to the 
corner below. But why did she so limit the 
distance of her excursions? The neighbors, 
much inclined to curious prying and gossip, 
were greatly perplexed. Indeed, Miss Pro- 
benster said to her bosom friend. Miss Nol- 
ling, that for the life of her she couldn’t tell 
what had come over that Cunster gal, she 
was acting so queer of late, walking up and 


Mr, Poofer Meets Miss Cunster 3 1 

down, up and down the penniment by the 
half hour at a time, for she herself timed 
her more than onct by the clock on the fac- 
tory tower, and she verily believed that she 
must have falling spells, or some like, and 
was afeered to go far from home. And this 
finally came to be the commonly accepted 
theory in the neighborhood, so that the health 
of the young woman was frequently inquired 
after by curious neighbors and friends. 

So matters went on for some days, when 
one morning Mr. Poofer was quite surprised 
to receive a note addressed to himself in a 
great, sprawling, awkward style of hand- 
writing; and still more surprised when he 
opened it, and read its contents: “Would dear 
Mr. Poofer have the goodness to call the 
following evening upon Miss Cunster, at 222 
Brand3rwine Street, for a social chat, if it 
would not put him out.” 

At first the young man was disposed to show 
the note to his mother and Mr. Updick, and 
make sport of it; but on second thought he 
put it in his pocket and determined to accept 
the invitation for the fun of it, and so he said 
nothing to anyone about it. 


CHAPTER VII 


Mr. Poofer Spends the Evening with 
Miss Cunster 

Mr. Poofer, having determined to accept 
the invitation of Miss Cunster, and having 
prinked for half an hour or more before his 
diminutive and broken mirror, appeared at 
the door of that young lady’s home attired in 
his best, which was not fine, but decent. And 
Miss Cunster in a red merino dress, her best, 
of course, with red ribbons, her hair done up 
with elaborate care and adorned with a huge 
bow of red ribbon on top of her head, which 
matched neither dress, neck ribbons, nor hair, 
awaited his coming in the little, stuffy room, 
politely called the parlor, but which was in 
reality the family sitting-room. 

For a full hour she had been impatiently 
awaiting the coming of her visitor, with fears 
arising continually in her breast lest he might 
disappoint her. When at last his knock was 
heard, her heart gave a great bound, and 


Mr, Poofer Spends the Evening 33 

thumped, thumped, thumped within her 
bosom as she hastened to the door. 

“Oh ! Mr. Poofer,” she said as she grasped 
and held his hand, and looked fondly into his 
eyes, “I’m so glad to see you. You’ve always 
come on bus’ness with my father. I’m real 
glad you’ve come now to see meJ* Then re- 
leasing his hand, and motioning him to a 
chair, she continued, “Now do set down. No, 
not on that cheer. Here on the sofy. It’s 
more comfor’able.” And she sat down on 
the sofa beside him. 

What an evening they had together — an 
evening of bliss to the young woman, but of 
intense amusement to the young man! She 
talked. Oh! how she talked! Did ever be- 
fore a tongue rattle on like hers that evening, 
wiggle-waggling like a rattle in the hands of 
a nursemaid? She laughed! Oh! how she 
laughed! How light-hearted and gay she 
seemed! She played on the piano, and the 
old worn-out instrument that had once be- 
longed to her grandma Froddy and had come 
down to her in regular line of succession, 
squeaked and groaned under her rough and 
unsympathetic touch. And she sang, too. 


34 William Updich: His Philosophy 

popular songs, tender ballads, love ditties, 
rendering them in rasping tones, which became 
veritable screeches on the high notes. How 
affected she was, mincing about the room, 
squinting at the young man, and assuming 
other arts of affectation as well! 

When the evening had passed and Mr. 
Poofer rose to leave, his would-be charmer 
became yet more effusive, squeezing the hand 
which he extended to her as he bade her 
good-night, and urging him by word and by 
look to come very soon again, smiling upon 
him all the while with insinuating sweetness. 

Once outside, and the door closed, the 
young man could no longer restrain his mirth, 
but burst into loud laughter, which was pro- 
longed and repeated at frequent intervals 
during his homeward walk, and which 
troubled Miss Cunster, who heard the first 
guffaw before he had left the steps; 
astonished belated pedestrians; and brought 
curious men and women from their beds to 
their windows to learn the occasion of such 
unseemly hilarity. His laughter, too, caused 
him narrowly to escape the lock-up as a police- 
man of recent appointment regarded him as a 


Mr. Poofer Spends the Evening 35 

hilarious imbiber of the cup that inebriates, 
and as a disturber of the peace, though really 
that neighborhood was anything but peaceful 
at that time of the night. Mr. Poofer arrived 
safely at home, however, well on toward mid- 
night. 

It was twelve o’clock when he retired to 
his bed — not, however, to sleep, for he went 
over and over again mentally the shifting 
scenes of his evening’s entertainment amid 
frequent explosions of mirth. And Mrs. 
Boveen, whose room was under that of the 
young man, said afterward that she could 
stand in the prisence of Jedge McCoort and 
tek her oath thet thet wild Poofer boy was on 
a spree thet night, and come home dhrunk as a 
loon, and kep’ her and her children awake ha’f 
the night, and them in great fright, too, by 
his dhrunken laffs. And Mr. Maybeer, an- 
other lodger in the house, said if he could a 
got thet brat of a boy thet night he’d a beat 
him ha’f out of his life, thet he would, a 
horse-laffin’ thet away most o’ the‘ night. And 
his poor mother, ignorant of the cause of this 
boisterous mirth, was in a panic of fear lest 
her son were in a high fever and delirious, or. 


36 William Updick: His Philosophy 

worse, were suffering from an acute attack of 
delirium tremens. She went into his room, 
and sat by his bedside entreating him to tell 
her what ailed him, and would not go un- 
til, after assuring her repeatedly that he was 
all right, only amused, he gently forced her 
from the room and locked the door, leaving 
her in a perplexed state of mind long after he 
had fallen asleep, and indeed until he arose 
in the morning apparently sane and sound. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Mr. Updick Gives Some Practical 
Advice 

True to his purpose, Mr. Pooler did call 
again upon Miss Cunster several evenings 
later, but not until he had received another 
note from that young lady expressing her 
concern at his apparent neglect of her, and 
with the urgent request that he would call 
that very evening, or the next. 

As he entered the stuffy little parlor, reek- 
ing with odors of onions and sauerkraut, he 
was quietly greeted by Miss Cunster, and was 
at once struck by her changed demeanor. 
From the effusive, chattering, affected miss of 
a few evenings before, he found a sober, pen- 
sive, demure young woman, who talked much, 
indeed, but not so excitedly and ramblingly as 
on the former occasion, and afforded him 
more time and opportunity to engage in the 
conversation, while she directed occasional 
piercing glances at him to see how he was 
coming on. And he did come on beautifully. 


38 William Updick: His Philosophy 

There was not so much cause for amusement 
this time, Miss Cunster being more quiet and 
sensible, and really he spent rather a pleasant 
evening. So he called again and again, each 
time noticing less and less her unattractive- 
ness of face and form, her eccentricities in 
dress and manner, her falseness in disposition 
and character. Gradually he came to be some- 
what interested in her; and “interest,” like 
pity, is akin to love. 

He determined, however, to keep his feel- 
ings locked up within his own bosom, and his 
visits from being known; but they could not 
be hid from the lynx-eyed scrutiny of Mr. 
Updick, who knew what was going on even 
before the young man’s mother had any idea 
of it, and some time, too, before it came to his 
ears, which it did after a while, for, to be 
sure, the young lady concerned could not keep 
secret Mr. Poofer’s attention to her; nor, in- 
deed, had she any desire to do so, for she told 
every one of her companions, and made the 
most of it, you may be sure, hinting of court- 
ship and even of marriage in the not distant 
future. So that her engagement soon became 
the common gossip of the neighborhood. 


Mr, Updick's Practical Advice 39 

Thus was Mr. Poofer led on, becoming so 
entangled, and involuntarily, too, that as an 
honorable man, desiring the good name of his 
fellow-men, it would have been difficult for 
him to disentangle himself from the web so 
cunningly woven about him, without injury to 
his reputation. 

One evening, when matters were nearing a 
crisis, Mr. Updick asked his young friend to 
call at his room and spend the evening with 
him. Many an evening had they spent there 
together, and delightfully, too, for they loved 
each other; but they had been very seldom 
together of late, for business growing out of 
the strike occupied much of the time and at- 
tention of the older man; and many of the 
young man’s evenings were spent with Miss 
Vermilia Cunster, “Miss Vermy,” as he now 
called her. 

“Now, Jack, my boy,” said William 
Updick when they were seated in his room 
by the open window, for the weather was 
warm. “Now, Jack, my boy,” — for Jack was 
his pet name for his young friend, that being 
his father’s name, — “you’re in danger. Be 
cautious. Look off and out, afore and aft. 


40 William Updick: His Philosophy 

Be sure you’re right afore you puts on a head 
of steam and starts off. Many’s the worry 
thct comes of a hurry. 

“You’re a thinkin’ of marryin’, Jack. Now 
stop. Don’t deny it. It’s no use. And you’re 
thinkin’ of marryin’ thet Banister, or Canister 
gal, or whatever’s ’er name” — and well 
enough he knew, of course. “No, you can’t 
deny it. Jack. It’s no use a tryin’. It’s writ 
on your face. Own up to it like a man.” 

“I haven’t ast her yet, and I’m far from 
it. I may never marry at all,” quickly and 
tartly replied the young man. 

“Pshaw! my boy. Well, I hopes ’twon’t 
be thet Canister gal, thet’s all. And she’s got 
red hair. Leastways it’s red if my eyes ain’t 
deceivin’ me, as they’s never done yit. Mebbe 
you calls it auburn. I don’t. There now. 
Ast any railroader and he’ll tell you mighty 
quick thet red’s the danger signal. Look 
sharp w’en you sees it, and go slow and cau- 
tious like. Onless looks’s mighty deceivin’, 
she’s not the one fer you. Jack, hows’ever she 
may do fer another. I ain’t a sayin’ nothin’ 
’bout thet. I’m consarned fer you, fer you 
knows I loves you, dear boy, as I loved your 


Mr, Updick's Practical Advice 41 

father afore you, and as though you was my 
werry own son. And so I says to you, look 
well to the peg afore you hangs up your hat. 
All women’s angels. I’ve heerd; but they’s 
two sorts of angels, and mebbe thet’s w’y 
they’s all angels. All women’s good, too, but 
some’s good fer nothin’, ain’t they? Now 
I’m a speakin’ in gen’ral, not in partickler. 
Mark thet, Jimmy Poofer. Miss Cunster,” 
— ah! then he did know her name, — “Miss 
Cunster may be all right — all right fer some- 
buddy else, but not fer you, my boy. You’re 
far too good fer sich’s her. 

“Life’s flavored werry much, I s’pose, by 
the choice of a wife, though I ain’t never tried 
it. So don’t go and git a acid or sour flavor 
in yours. If she’s a spider, look out fer the 
web or you’ll be ketched. If she’s a wasp, 
then hands off, keep your distance, or you’ll 
git stinged. If she’s a rose, though I’m 
’dined to b’lieve she’s anythink else, then 
look out fer the thorns, or you’ll git jagged.” 

“But I ain’t said I was a goin’ to marry 
her, did I?” rather angrily replied the young 
man. “Far from it. I’m only payin’ friendly 
visits. Is there harm in that? Say, is there 


42 William Updick: His Philosophy 

harm in that? All this about spiders, and 
wasps, and roses is nonsense, and nothin’ but 
nonsense.” 

“Oh! no; not nonsense, my boy. They’s 
no nonsense about ’em. They’s bus’ness ev’ry 
one on ’em. Wasps, and roses, and spiders, 
too, may all hev their uses, and ev’ry one on 
’em has, to be sure, else why’s they here ? But 
they may be set’s warnin’s well ’s ’tractions, I 
reckon. 

“And now a word as to the fambly, and 
fambly connections. Some mothers-in-laws’s 
like high explosives. You’ve got to be keer- 
ful, and bring no fire nigh. But I ain’t 
sayin,’ mind you, thet they’s all sich, nor all a 
bad, quarrelsome lot neither. Oh I no, not by 
no means. Certainly not. I’ve knowed many 
a good un. And they’s fathers-in-law bad, 
too. Some’s cross-grained’s any log I’ve ever 
sawed, and many’s the log I’ve sawed, I can 
tell you. And they’s uncles, and aunts, and 
cousins to be took into ’count, fer like’s not 
they’ll be a runnin’ in fer. breakfast, dinner, 
and supper, and atween times, and a-comin’ 
with their childrens, bag and baggage, to 
spend the night, and p’rhaps longer. Extend 


Mr, Updick's Practical Advice 43 

your prospec’. Take ’em all in in your view. 
If you don’t want ’em about, mayhap your 
wife will. And then wot ? 

“So you’re tired of an old man’s adwice” — 
as the young man rose to his feet and took up 
his hat. “Well, if you will go, my boy, 
though I wish you’d stay a deal longer, good- 
night, and keep your wits.” 


CHAPTER IX 


Caught 

“Jimmy, dear,” said Miss Cunster in her 
most bewitching manner to Mr. Pooler one 
evening as they sat together on a bench in the 
park, the moon shining upon them in silvery 
splendor, quickening the impulse of love, — 
“Jimmy, dear, we’ve been goin’ together so 
long now that people’s beginnin’ to talk about 
us. Why, what do you think? Miss Ben- 
cher told ma we seemed to be very ’fection- 
ate, me and you, and she s’posed we’d be 
married afore many days, judgin’ leastways 
from appearances; and old Mrs. Bowser said 
she thought it about time we was married, wc 
appeared so lovin’. And, — and, — do you 
know, Jimmy, dear; well, — well,” and she 
turned her head away in her modesty, — “I, 
— well, I think so, too.” 

“What I” exclaimed Mr. Poofer, astonished 
at such a plain declaration as this. “What! 
You think so, too !” 


Caught 45 

“And why not, Jimmy, dear? But la me! 
what hev I said? What hev I said?” and she 
leaned her head upon his shoulder and wept. 

There was nothing, of course, for the 
young man to do, under the circumstances, 
but to comfort her; and this he did in his 
way, which, however, was not at all to her 
liking, for he blunderingly referred to their 
long friendship of several weeks’ duration, 
spoke of their pleasant intercourse, and de- 
clared he had neither desire nor intention of 
sundering the ties of friendship which bound 
them together, and which he valued so 
highly. 

How stupid he was to be sure, or tantali- 
zing, which is worse ! Why didn’t he come to 
the point and speak out like a man? So, 
naturally enough, the young woman wept on, 
and would not be so comforted. 

“But, Jimmy, dear,” she sobbed, “I’ve my 
feelin’s in this matter, and they’s hurt. 
They’s hurt awful bad, awful bad.” 

“Well, what can I do to mend them, 
deary?” he replied, evidently softened and 
subdued. 

“Call me your deary. Make it personal 


46 William Updick: His Philosophy 

and make it possessive. There ! There ! Oh I 
what hev I gone and said? Dear me!” and 
she sobbed and sighed upon his shoulder. 

“But I couldn’t call you that,” he replied, 
evidently recalling from long ago the mean- 
ing of personal and of possessive, “unless you 
were my wife, deary, and you’re not that, 
you know.” 

“No, not yet,” she sobbed; “not yet. But 
oh 1 my, I might be. Ah, me 1” and she wept, 
shedding tears copiously. 

Now what could the young man do? One 
of two things. And he did one of them. Rais- 
ing her head from his shoulder, and pushing 
back the red locks from her forehead, he im- 
printed a kiss upon her brow, and another 
upon her lips, and simply asked, “Will you 
be mine now?” 

What magic charm in those few simple 
words I By the utterance of them the sighing, 
and weeping and dejection of the young wo- 
man were transformed into ecstasies of joy 
and hope, which found expression in demon- 
strative exclamations of, “I will! Yes, I will! 
Yes, to be sure I will!” with hugs and kisses 
as accompaniments. So demonstrative, in- 


Caught 47 

deed, did she become that the policeman pass- 
ing along put her and the young man 
both under arrest for making love in 
the park, and let them off only when 
they reached the gate and solemnly promised 
to conduct themselves thereafter with more 
decorum in public places. 

So Mr. Poofer and Miss Cunster were en- 
gaged. The trap, long set, had sprung at 
last, and the victim was caught. 

The young woman was radiantly and tri- 
umphantly happy — happy in her own way, 
which, however, was anything but agreeable 
in her home. And the young man, far from 
being radiantly happy, was just the reverse, 
being quite despondent, irritable, and cross. 
He tried to keep his engagement secret, and, 
depending upon him only, it might have re- 
mained concealed for days and weeks. But 
there was another and more deeply interested 
party to the engagement, who had neither the 
self-control nor inclination to keep the secret, 
and so the news spread like wild-fire through 
the neighborhood. 

The very next morning after the betrothal, 
bright and early. Miss Vermilia, overstepping 


48 William Updick: His Philosophy 

all the antipathies that separated the Street 
from the Court, fairly ran down to Mrs. 
Poofer’s in the exuberance of her new-found 
joy, and up the stairs, all out of breath as she 
entered the apartment of her prospective 
mother-in-law to announce the engagement. 

Mrs. Poofer had received no intelligence of 
any alliance between the house of Poofer and 
the house of Cunster, nor would she believe 
that such an alliance had been formed, and 
now awaited only the formal ratification or 
consummation. Even upon the most solemn 
and oft-repeated asservation of this repre- 
sentative of the house of Cunster she refused 
to believe — at least she professed not to be- 
lieve. 

“There now! Out with you! And don’t 
you be a bringin’ sech tales to me. D’ye hear? 
My boy, who’s a Poofer on his father’s side, 
and a Froddy on his mother’s, a goin’ to 
marry a Cunster! Oh! no! No, indeedy. 
It’s nonsense. More, it’s a lie. There now, 
Vermy Cunster, take that and go. It’s a lie, 
and I’ll have no liars in my ’partments, 
humble’s they is, I can tell you. Now be off.” 

And the worthy representative of the Cun- 


Caught 49 

ster family, firing a volley of vituperation at 
Mrs. Poofer, flounced out of the room in a 
rage, and was off to bear the tidings else- 
where. 

And Mr. Poofer ! How he was questioned, 
and cross-questioned, upon his return home at 
noon ! But he was uncommunicative and 
quite low-spirited. So while Miss Cunster 
persistently circulated the intelligence of her 
engagement to Mr. Poofer, the mother of 
that young man as persistently denied it in 
toto. And the neighbors believed whom they 
would. 

The news, however, was not long in reach- 
ing the ears of Mr. Updick. 

“Now, Jack, my boy,” he said to the young 
man one evening as he pulled up a chair to 
the table in the kitchen and partook of the 
frugal meal with the widow and her son, 
“you’re a goin’ to marry. No, madam, it’s 
too true,” as Mrs. Poofer entered a vigorous 
protest, followed by a no less vigorous tirade 
against that “red-headed hussy,” as she called 
Vermilia. 

“Out with the truth. Jack, afore your 
mother like a man. Tell the truth, the hull 


50 William Updick: His Philosophy 

truth, and nothin’ but the truth, as says jedge 
and jury in a court of honor. Out with it, 
boy.” 

“Well, I’ll not deny it,” said the young 
man. “I reckon it’s all done and fixed, and 
nothin’ needed but the cer’mony to make it 
complete.” 

At this plain statement Mrs. Poofer rose 
from her chair in her wrath, and in a passion 
shook her fist in her son’s face, and spake out 
boldly whatever came into her mind at the mo- 
ment, which was neither elegant nor decorous, 
while both of the men sat and listened in 
silence. It was only after she had finished 
and had sunk back exhausted into her chair 
that Mr. Updick continued. 

“Now you’ve had your say, madam, and 
quite a full say, too, or I’m much mistaken. 
We knows your feelin’s and sentimen’s. You 
needn’t go further.” Then turning to his 
young friend, he continued, “Is your mind 
fully persuaded, my boy? Is it? Is she the 
right one fer you? Do you love ’er? Do 
you? If so, then William Updick’s the last 
man to say a word, but will make the best 
possible on’t. There now. Mebbe we 


Caught 5 1 

oughtn’t to jedge a woman by appearances, 
w’ich is often deceivin’. But in this case I 
don’t b’lieve ’tis. I trow her and her looks’s 
one and the same. She’s wot she looks, and 
she looks wot she is. Would you be tied to a 
crab-tree, my boy? Well, I’d rather it ’ud be 
you than me, fer I prefers sweets to sours. 
It’s easy to marry. Jack,” — “Ah! me,” sighed 
the widow, — “but the hard times may come 
after. Look well to your footoor. Now all 
this I says, my boy, fer your own good. The 
cer’mony’s not yit said; and if you’re not 
perfectly satisfied with your choice and feels 
thet you’ve made a mistake as your looks 
seems to indercate, w’y up and out with the 
truth to her, and seek release. It’ll be werry 
hard, I’m a thinkin’, to git it, but if she finds 
you don’t care fer her, if they’s a grain of 
sense in ’er, she’ll let you go double-quick. 
Now I’m not a interferin’, mind, but only a 
talkin’ as your poor father ’ud a done if he 
was here to-night.” 

“Well, I’ll own up right here to you and 
Mom,” replied the young man, “I don’t love 
her. I’ve made a mistake. I was a fool. 
But I’ve done gone and ast her, and I’ll not 


52 William Updick: His Philosophy 

draw back — no, not if I was to be shot fer it. 
And I wisht I was!” and he sighed, and 
leaned his head on his hands with a look of 
abject despair, and yet of grim determination. 

“Better not tie the gallin’ knot than be tied 
by it fer life, my boy. Better retire hon’- 
rably while you may, than dishon’rably it may 
be by gittin’ a diworce through the law court. 
But if you will, you will; and there’s an end 
on’t,” said William Updick, and abruptly took 
his departure. 


CHAPTER X 


The Strikers Become Desperate 

The strike continued — one, two, three 
weeks of it. While the owners of mills and 
factories were able to live in luxury during 
these trying times, the workingmen, having 
found it well-nigh impossible, even when work 
was plenty, to keep themselves and their 
families sufficiently fed and decently clad, 
were in dire distress, dependent, when their 
credit at the stores expired, upon the very 
meager supplies furnished them by their more 
fortunate neighbors. 

The situation became desperate ; and the 
strikers again demanded a conference with 
the employers, which, as before, met with a 
blunt refusal. 

What could be done ? The men could not 
hold out much longer, that was evident; and 
in their desperation, pillage, the destruction 
of property, and even bloodshed, were to be 


54 William Updick: His Philosophy 

feared. The cloud was angry-looking indeed, 
threatening a terrible storm of destruction, if 
the pent-up forces so long held in check should 
burst their restraining bonds. Fires were 
burning fiercely beneath the surface, which 
threatened to break forth at any moment in 
destroying and all-consuming fury. 

The crisis had come, and who but William 
Updick could stay the threatened catastrophe ? 
All eyes turned instinctively to him, and with 
his characteristic earnestness, boldness, and 
enthusiasm he threw himself, heart and soul, 
into the breach. He shrewdly conjectured 
that, while the employers would not consent to 
see him nor any committee of employees as 
appointed representatives of the dissatisfied 
workingmen to discuss a settlement of the 
strike, they could hardly refuse to see him 
and one or two others with him when they 
called unofficially at their homes. So with 
two of his most tactful and trusted lieutenants 
he called in turn at the home of every mill- 
owner and manufacturer in the city; and in 
every one of them, with only one exception, 
he and his companions were admitted, received 
politely, if not cordially, and their recital of 


Strikers Become Desperate 55 

their grievances listened to with considerable 
attention and patience. 

As might be expected, William Updick was 
the spokesman on these occasions, those who 
accompanied him merely assenting to his re- 
marks, or supplementing them. 

“Good evenin’ to you, sir,” says Mr. Up- 
dick. “It’s a good evenin’ but it’s dark days 
we’s a havin’ now. ’Twould make your heart 
ache to see how our poor people’s a livin’ these 
days with no flour in the bar’l, no oil in the 
lamp, no food in the cupboard, no coal in 
the cellar, no money in the purse; with the 
childrens a cryin’ fer bread of w’ich there ain’t 
none; fer shoes and clothes to keep out the 
cold and none to give ’em ; men beat down with 
worry and care ; and the women a cryin’ their 
eyes out at the sad plight of theirselves and 
their famblies. ’Twould melt your heart to 
see ’em, sir, as I sees ’em ev’ry day. Come 
down among us, and see fer yourself. These’s 
tryin’ times, sir. 

“No, sir; I don’t say’s all our men’s saints 
and angels. Oh I no, indeed. To be sure not. 
Some of ’em’s bad and a goin’ to the bad’s 
fast’s they ken. But they’d not be so bad. 


5 6 William Updick: His Philosophy 

some of ’em, if they’d work. Idleness and 
vice goes hand in hand. Idleness raises the 
devil. But it’s a deal easier to raise the devil 
than to lay him on the flat of his back, ain’t 
it, sir? An idle man’s easy tempted and led 
astray. 

“Oh! no, sir; I don’t say’s all who works’s 
perfect. No, indeed. Certainly not. But 
you knows, sir, thet work lessens evil. Work’s 
a good moral tonic. But a tonic may be took 
too much of, and so become a p’ison. Work, 
but not overwork, ’s good fer ev’ry man; and 
ev’ry man’s all the better fer it ; but too. much 
work, I reckon’s about’s bad’s too little, fer 
the men git ower tired and seek unnateral 
stimulants to keep ’em a goin’ like, and they 
soon breaks down and dies, or becomes 
chronics. 

“Yes, we wants work, and plenty of it, too, 
within rhyme and reason. But no Sunday 
work. No, sir, no Sunday work. We’s not 
machines — we’s humans. We’s not all body 
neither — we’s got souls to be looked to. 

“Give us work through the week, and don’t 
rob us of our Sunday rest. Give us fair and 
square wages fer six days’ work. 


Strikers Become Desperate 57 

“It’s just wages and Sunday rest we wants. 
There now. Ain’t it reason’ble ? Is there any 
onreason’bleness in thet? If so, tell us out 
and open. Let’s be fair and square with 
each other. 

“Grant our humble request, sir. Open up 
the mill. Stop at onct this awful misery, and 
degradation, and sin into w’ich our poor 
people’s come through the closin’ of the mills 
and fact’ries. And you’ll profit by it’s well’s 
we. It’s of mootooal benefit. 

“Now, sir, p’r’aps we’ve kep’ you too long. 
We’s off; and if you’ve any word fer our 
poor, starvin’, sufferin’ people, give it to me 
now, or send it’s quick’s you ken, fer want 
and despair makes men desp’rate. They’s my 
address, sir.” 

Rising, and handing to the proprietor a 
slip of paper on which, in sprawling letters, 
his name and address were written, Updick 
bade good-evening, and with his friends de- 
parted. 

Several evenings were spent in this way, 
while during the days the labor leader went 
about from one to another of the more excit- 
able, radical, and desperate strikers caution- 


58 William Updick: His Philosophy 

ing them against violence, and urging them 
to hold out until a general meeting of the 
men should be called, when it was hoped word 
would be received from the employers as to 
whether or not they would recede from their 
position, and accede to the strikers’ demands 
for just wages and Sunday rest. 


CHAPTER XI 


The Meeting of the Strikers 

The meeting was fixed for a Saturday even- 
ing, and the notice of time and place quickly 
circulated among the workingmen. At the 
time appointed the hall, capable of holding 
fifteen hundred persons, was packed almost to 
suffocation with an excited, desperate crowd 
of men, which a word would have transformed 
into a raving mob bent upon destruction. 

Hundreds, unable to gain admission to the 
hall, gathered on a vacant lot opposite and 
held an impromptu meeting. 

William Updick, by common consent the 
leader of the strikers, came to the meeting 
that evening deeply impressed with a sense 
of his responsibility, realizing full well the 
critical situation, and his own insufficiency, 
yet calm, courageous, self-possessed. 

As he approached the hall some of the men 
on the lot spied him, and shouted; 

“Here’s Billy Updy. Three cheers, boys. 


6o William Updick: His Philosophy 

for Billy Updy!” And the cheers were 
given with a will, while a box was brought, 
and Mr. Updick was escorted to it, and three 
more rousing cheers were given as he mounted 
the improvised platform. 

“My boys,” he said, as soon as he could be 
heard, “we’s fallen on hard times — hard luck. 
I’ve heerd some of you call it, and mebbe ’tis 
to your way of thinkin’; but not mine, fer 
I’m no b’liever in luck, good nor bad. But 
these’s hard times, as we’ll all agree on. But 
how’s they to be made better? Thet’s wot 
we’ve got to consider. And we must up and 
put on our thinkin’ caps, and instanter, too. 

“I’ve heerd, and I knows you boys well 
’nough to b’lieve it too, thet they’s some of 
you thet’s fer a risin’ up in your dignity and a 
puttin’ fire to fact’ry and mill, and a burnin’ 
’em all down to dust and ashes. Like me 
w’en a young man and gits upon my dignity 
and goes off and kills my boss’s ket, because 
he wouldn’t raise my wages. And w’ot I 
gained by thet proceedin’ I’ve never yit dis- 
kivered. 

“Spite’s like a mean bunnit on a fine-lookin’ 
woman, werry ugly and werry onbecomin’.” 


Meeting of Strikers 6i 

“We’s no women to wear bunnits,” some- 
one cried out, and a general laugh followed. 

‘‘Well, mebbe you’s not a good-lookin' 
woman, to wear a bunnit. I’ll not deny it. 
But mebbe you’s like some women, to put on 
more’n you oughter. And as to your good 
looks, I ain’t a sayin’ nothin’ about ’em. Oh ! 
no, nothin’ at all.” 

Laughter and applause followed this quick 
retort, and when the noise subsided, he con- 
tinued : 

“Now don’t be rash, my boys. Don’t 
lose your wits. Keep your heads cool, 
and your brains won’t sizzle. Stop ! Look ! 
Listen ! Them’s three good railroad words, 
as I’ve seen many’s the time; and good 
they’s, too, w’en they’s danger about. And 
they’s three good words fer us, too, in these 
dang’rous times. Stop short. Look out. Lis- 
ten to reason and oncommon sense. There 
’tis in a pea-hull. And good-night to one and 
all.” 

At the conclusion of his remarks, which 
were received with vociferous cheers and ap- 
plause, their, leader presented one of his most 
cautious, tactful, and experienced helpers, a 


62 William Updick: His Philosophy 

man well-known and respected by the men, as 
chairman of the out-of-door meeting, who 
was loudly cheered as he took his place on 
the box which served as a platform. 

This done, Mr. Updick hurried to the hall 
where the men awaited impatiently his com- 
ing. With difficulty he made his way to the 
platform, where he was greeted with shouts, 
and cheers, and loud demonstrations of re- 
gard. Bowing and smiling, he took the chair 
left unoccupied for him, and looked out over 
the turbulent mass of men, who were swing- 
ing their arms, and waving their hats, and 
crying, “Down with the bosses! Burn the 
mills! Pull down the factories!” and min- 
gling their cries with blood-curdling oaths and 
curses. 

For a moment or two, until he could gain 
complete mastery of himself, and breathe a 
prayer, for he was a praying man, the leader 
sat motionless; and then slowly rising to his 
feet, his face pale, his lips slightly quivering, 
his limbs a-tremble, he lifted his hand. And 
there were cries all over the hall of, “Silence! 
Billy Updy! Silence, there! Billy Updy’s 
goin’ to speak! Silence!” 


Meeting of Strikers 63 

It was not long before comparative quiet 
was restored. The interest developed as the 
speaker proceeded, until toward the close of 
his speech the famous pin, if dropped, might 
almost have been heard. 

The speaker began in a husky voice, 
which grew clearer and stronger as he pro- 
ceeded. 

“You calls me Billy Updy; and I ain’t a 
objectin’ to thet. I calls you my boys, and 
you’ll not object to thet, will you?” 

Cries of, “No! No! We’re your 
boys all right, as you ain’t got none of yer 
own,” was the apt response. 

“Now listen to me, fer I’ve got somethin’ 
to say to you to-night, and I’m a goin’ to talk 
werry plain, too.” 

Cries of, “All right! We’ll listen. Chip in, 
old man,” interrupted him. 

“I’m ’shamed ’nough of some of you the 
way you’s ben a carryin’ on, a usin’ up the 
little money you oughter’ve bought bread, and 
shoes, and clothes, and coal with fer your f am- 
blies, in drink, and gamblin’ and a carousin’ 
round.” 

“Go on! Go on! Give it to ’em! Give 


64 William Updich: His Philosophy 

it to ’em hot and heavy,” was heard on all 
sides. 

“And you, too,” a quick retort which 
“brought down the house.” 

“Yes, you’re no better than the rest, 
mebbe. I don’t know, I’m sure. And I guess 
they’s a bad streak in all of us, w’en it comes 
to thet. But some’s worse’n others. And 
you who’s gambled and drinked up your 
money, w’ot’s you got to show fer it? Well, 
some of you’s I ken see’s got red noses and 
pale faces, and I guess your women and chil- 
dren’s got nothin’ to eat, and little ’nough to 
wear this cool weather. God pity ’em, if you 
don’t. God help ’em, if you won’t. 

“I’m temp’rance; and I ain’t got no right 
to be nothin’ else. But I wasn’t alus temp’- 
rance. I uster love my grog; but if I loved 
it, it hated me, and brought me down low 
’nough, I ken tell you. And it hates ev’ry 
one of us. The more you loves it, the worse 
it’ll treat you. Thet’s my experience. There 
now. Wot’s yours?” 

“Right you are. Yes! That’s right. It’s 
true. I’m with you there, Billy Updy. Go it, 
old feller. Give it to ’em. You’re on the 


Meeting of Strikers 65 

right track,” was the response from men here 
and there all over the hall. 

“If you gits the best of whiskey it’ll git the 
best of you. Mebbe some of you’s tried to 
drown your troubles in beer and grog, but 
you’s found they could swim, haven’t you? 

“I’ve heerd it said thet ardent sperits’s evil 
sperits. And I’m agreed, and go further and 
says they’s unclean, filthy sperits, too, as your 
wives’ll tell you mighty quick, if you’ll ast ’em. 

“Your purse shrinks w’en you drinks, and 
nothin’ good to show fer it neither. 

“Drink! Drink! this terrible drink, 

A causin’ more trouble than any ken think. 
Drink! Drink! these horrible stuffs, 

Made by the devil, and drinked by the toughs.’’ 

“Hooray! Billy Updy’s dropped into 
po’try. It’s all right, Billy Updy. Give it to 
us in verse. Hooray!” 

“And as to gamblin’, boys, don’t do it. 
Don’t do it. Be fair and square in all your 
dealin’s with one another. Give valey fer 
valey received. A gambler’s a sneak, a whip- 
pin’ off other people’s money, and a givin’ 
nothin’ in return. A man’s gits money 


66 William Updick: His Philosophy 

a gamblin’ gits it neither’s a gift nor wages. 
How then does he git it? By stealin’. Thet’s 
the way he gits it. Gamblin’s stealin’. 
Thet’s wot gamblin’ is, it’s stealin’. If you 
don’t want to be a thief then don’t go a 
gamblin’. So I says the best throw of the 
dice’s to throw ’em away. 

“Now if you’d ben better boys I guess 
more could a ben done fer you. But ain’t the 
bosses right w’en they says you can’t be so 
werry bad off w’en you ken spend so much in 
the saloon and other evil places; and w’en 
they’s prejudiced ag’inst you w’en you gits 
drunk and acts the fool ? And we who don’t 
drink and carry on must suffer through your 
fault. Is ’t fair to us ? Can’t you deny your- 
selves these evil thin’s fer the good of us 
all? 

“Now you’s got my first point. We’s got 
faults of our own to kerrect. We’s not all 
saints nor angels; nor’s the bosses all devils. 
D’ye hear? Let’s be fair and square. 

“But here’s my second point. Our bosses’s 
got faults, too. But we mustn’t go at ’em and 
butt ’em out of ’em like my billy-goat I uster 
hev w’en I was a little chap and a carryin’ 


Meeting of Strikers 67 

a pail of milk butt me, and threw me down, 
and spilt my milk, and made me hoppin’ mad, 
so’s I ups and offs a yellin’ to Mom fer dear 
life, and the milk was gone, and I was mad, 
and Mom was mad, and she gits the cart 
whip and gives the billy a standin’ innercent 
like in a fence corner a good old-fashion’ 
whippin’, and he gits mad, and butts, and ups 
and offs, and away.” 

All through the recital of this bit of his- 
tory there was laughter, which grew louder as 
the speaker proceeded in the graphic por- 
trayal of the scene, until the whole mass 
of men were convulsed, and shouted, and 
clapped, and stamped until the old building 
threatened to collapse. 

“Yes, the goat he got mad,” continued the 
speaker as soon as he could be heard. “And I 
was mad; and Mom, too, I can tell you. And 
I felt her mad. And the milk was all gone. 
And the goat was a careerin’ round’s mad’s 
them hornets in the old garden uster be w’en 
I wants to play with ’em. So nothin’ was 
gained by the billy a buttin’ me, was there? 
Now don’t let’s play the billy-goat, act the 
fool, destroy proppity, make the bosses mad. 


68 William Updick: His Philosophy 

and git nothin’ in return, but mebbe the 
pententi’ry. Don’t let’s play the fool, I say. 
Let’s be manly, firm, determined in our de- 
mand, w’ich’s right not only accordin’ to our 
jedgment, but in the jedgment of the decent 
and thinkin’ public. Let’s be gentlemen, ev’ry 
one of us, and act like gentlemen, not a pro- 
vokin’ anger and so a goin’ ’gainst our own 
int’rests. I charge you, my boys, to restrain 
your tempers. Don’t be like a woman I 
knowed onct who’d a short temper and a 
long tongue, and they most alius goes to- 
gether. Well, this woman wouldn’t keep in 
her temper fer nothin’. And she ups one 
evenin’ w’en I was callin’ and slashes into 
her beloved husband right and left.” 

“That’s the way they does,” piped a thin 
voice in the audience, and the whole assembly 
was in an uproar of laughter. 

“ ‘Well,’ he says, ‘Jinnie, I was a cornin’ to 
a conclusion if you’d a let me finish, and the 
werry conclusion was to give you money fer a 
new bunnit; but now you don’t git none.’ 
And she didn’t git wot she wanted ’cause she 
couldn’t hold in her temper. If you must hev 
a sharp tongue, hold it in your mouth. They’s 


Meeting of Strikers 69 

the place fer it. Don’t let it pertrude. Don’t 
rile these men, and it don’t take much from us 
to do it, neither. 

‘^They won’t take talk nor temper from us, 
but they’ll take a great deal more — our just 
wages and our rest day. Now we wants to 
act the gentleman, and not the rowdy, and try 
to make honest men of ’em. And we can’t 
make ’em honest by a burnin’ down their mills, 
nor a blowin’ up their fact’ries. Thet ain’t the 
way to teach honesty, is it? Oh I no, thet 
won’t do it. It’ll only make ’em more sot in 
their evil ways, and rouse up their ill-will, and 
we’ll suffer awful by it. Thet we will. And 
the public’ll be down on us, and say as how' 
we oughter be beat. Git the public ag’in you 
and where be you at? Now the public’s with 
us, and agin the bosses. Keep it so. And 
sooner or later the bosses’ll hev to give in to 
our reason’ble demands.” 

“But,” cried some one, “we can’t wait. 
We’re out of bread. We must do somethin’. 
Settle it now.” And immediately there was 
an uproar. The speaker for the moment lost 
control of his audience. But clapping his 
hands, and then stretching out his arms 


70 William Updick: His Philosophy 

toward the men, silence was soon restored, and 
he proceeded. 

“Don’t I know it, my boys? Don’t I know 
it? Many of you’s had little to eat to-day, 
and fer many a day, fer the matter of thet, 
and so’ve I. I’m one with you there. I know 
wot ’tis to be hungry. It’s pinchin’ times we’s 
all a havin’. But who’ll say it’ll be any better 
if we go a careerin’ round, a burnin’ and a 
tearin’ down, and a actin’ fit fer the pen’ten- 
ti’ry ? We ain’t a goin’ to git w’ot we want thet 
a way. And we ain’t a goin to git it by a givin’ 
up and a goin’ back to old wages and seven 
days’ work neither. We’ll only git it by a de- 
nyin’ ourselves a bit longer, and a pinchin’ a 
bit harder, though, dear knows, it’s hard 
’nough now. 

“But I looks a little ways into the footoor^, 
my boys, and I sees the bosses a yieldin’ to 
public opinion, accedin’ to our just de- 
mands, and we at work ag’in, a happy, 
prosp’rous, contented people; the childrens, 
God bless ’em, well-dressed, well-fed, a goin’ 
off to school; the women well-kep’, and happy; 
and we men sat’sfied, and a doin’ right by our 
bosses as they does right by us. And our 


Meeting of Strikers 71 

condition’s improved, our surroundin’s more 
neat and healthy, our morals on a higher 
plane. 

“It’s a outlook into the footoor, but it’s the 
near footoor — a few days more of sufferin,’ 
then peace, and plenty, and happiness. 

There I Can’t you see it? Now ” He 

stopped abruptly, for there was much crowd- 
ing, and pushing, and noise about the door. 


CHAPTER XII 


Mr. Finby Appears 

There were cries from the rear of the 
room, “Make way! Make way! It’s Mr. 
Finby, the boss ! Give him a chanct ! Git 
out, will ye! Let him through! Let’s hear 
what he’s got to say!” They made their way 
for the visitor as best they could, being so 
crowded together. 

It was a tall, portly gentleman, who jos- 
tled and pushed along was trying to make his 
way from the door to the platform at the 
farther end of the hall. Fists were shaken 
in his face, and angry threats, and jeers, and 
taunts greeted him as he slowly proceeded 
up the aisle; but he was unharmed, for Mr. 
Updick had called aloud: 

“Let Mr. Finby come up here and speak 
to us. Mebbe he’s got good news. I b’lieve 
he has.” 

So, puffing and blowing, flushed and 
heated, the visitor finally reached the plat- 


73 


Mr, Finby Appears 

form, up the steep steps of which he stum- 
bled, being crowded and pushed from behind 
by those who would accelerate his speed. 
And so breathless and panting from his un- 
usual and vigorous exertion, he stood beside 
the leader, presenting quite a contrast to him 
both in appearance and manner. 

“Glad we are to see you with us, Mr. 
Finby. And I hopes you’ve got somethin’ 
right good to tell us. Now we’ll all listen 
right attentive to w’ot you’ve got to say, 
won’t we, boys?” 

“Aye! Aye! That we will. That’s 
right, Billy Updy. Fair play! Let him gas, 
and we’ll meter him. Go on ! Go on ! Hi ! 
Mr. Finby, up and off. Let off steam. Hi ! 
there, go on! Go on!” came from hoarse 
voices in the crowd below. 

“So, Mr. Finby,” said Mr. Updick aside 
while the uproar continued, “you see they’s 
all anxious and a waitin’. You’ll speak to 
’em, won’t you, and give ’em some good 
news, too, sech’s you’ve agreed to our just 
request fer fair wages and Sunday rest?” 

So Mr. Finby stepped to the front of the 
platform as Mr. Updick said to the men. 


74 William Updick: His Philosophy 

“Now, boys, quiet. We’ll hear w’ot Mr. 
Finby’s got to say.” 

Silence settled instantly upon the great con- 
course of turbulent men, for all wondered 
what had brought the proprietor of one of 
the mills to their meeting, and curiosity was 
thoroughly aroused as to what he would say. 

“I see before me,” began Mr. Finby, 
“some who were in our employ, and now are 
not, but are without work, without means, 
without friends to help them. Your women 
and children are suffering, I doubt not. You 
know how it is with you. As for us, our 
mills and factories are closed, and we are 
idle, too. But we’ve money to live on; and 
when one has money, one has friends. But 
we are not without feeling. We are sorry 
for you in your distress.” 

Now this was a most unfortunate begin- 
ning, as the restlessness of the men and the 
look in their eyes plainly indicated. 

Mr. Updick, in a low tone, said, “Change 
your tack, Mr. Finby.” Mr. Finby took the 
hint, and continued: 

“But we’re not faultless, I’ll admit. We 
could have prevented all this misery and 


75 


Mr, Finby Appears 

distress, but we wouldn’t and didn’t; but that 
is not saying we will not. We heard you were 
going to hold a meeting to-night, and so last 
evening all the proprietors of the mills and 
factories in this city — all except one who 
was out of town, but whom we feel sure is in 
perfect accord with us — met at my house and 
talked long and fully over the situation. 
Some, I will not deny, were for' holding out; 
others were for yielding to your demands. 
But when the vote was finally taken the ma- 
jority were for yielding conditionally to 
your demands, and the minority acquiesced.” 

At this point the whole assembly went wild. 
The men, as by a common impulse, rose from 
their seats and threw aloft hats and CANES 
regardless of where they might come down. 
Deafening cries and shouts and cheers made 
the walls fairly tremble. Some of the men 
laughed, some cried, some shook hands, some 
embraced, some became hysterical. It was a 
heart-touching scene which lasted until 
through exhaustion the men quieted down 
somewhat, when Mr. Updick, giving his us- 
ual signal for silence, always regarded by the 
men, nodded to Mr. Finby to proceed. 


7 6 William Updick: His Philosophy 

“Yes, we promise to grant your request 
for Sunday rest, and from a dollar and a 
quarter, to a dollar seventy-five a day, includ- 
ing Sunday, according to the kind of work 
done. But we ask this of you, that you work 
faithfully ten hours a day as formerly, from 
seven in the morning to six in the evening, 
with an hour at noon for dinner and rest; 
and overtime, when our work demands it, at 
the rate of from ten to twenty cents an hour 
extra, according to the kind of work done. 
Now theseare the propositions I am instructed 
by the owners of mills and factories in this 
city to lay before you. Now what do you 
say ? Are the terms agreeable ?” 

Before he quite finished pandemonium 
broke loose, and there was a repetition of the 
hysterical scene. 

“That’s all right I We’re agreed! Yes! 
Yes! We’re ready! We’ll start in Monday 
morning! Give us a chanct! The terms’s 
all right!” 

The meeting broke up in the wildest disor- 
der; and the men, many of them singing and 
shouting, returned with the good news to 
wives, mothers and children ; while many 


77 


Mr, Finby Appears 

others crowded the neighboring saloons and 
groggeries to celebrate the break of the 
strike. 

Meantime, Mr. Updick said quietly to Mr. 
Finby that the terms were quite agreeable, 
and would be complied with, and that the 
men would report for work on Monday 
morning. 

So the long, stubborn strike was broken. 
The mighty power of aroused public opinion 
had asserted itself and compelled a settle- 
ment. Right and justice triumphed. 


CHAPTER XIII 


Mr. Updick Has Something Practical 
TO Say 

Mr. Updick was a teetotaler. He had not 
always been such, but for years he had not 
tasted a drop of intoxicating drink; and he 
had strong temperance convictions, too. 

Naturally enough, therefore, Mr. Updick 
and Tom Bussley, the keeper of the most 
frequented saloon in the neighborhood, were 
opposed the one to the other. Both were 
powers among the workingmen, exerting 
considerable influence, but in opposite direc- 
tions and to very different ends. The one 
was respected and beloved; the other, a po- 
litical trickster, was feared by all, and de- 
spised by many, even of his own patrons over 
whom he held sway with an iron hand; and 
he threatened and bullied when more gentle 
methods failed to hold the allegiance of his 
customers to his political party. 

During the days of idleness incident to the 


Something Practical to Say 79 

strike young Mr. Poofer had become a fre- 
quenter of Bussley’s saloon, and was fast fall- 
ing under the spell of its proprietor. Mr. 
Updick was quick to notice it, and determin- 
ing, if possible, to turn the young man’s steps 
in the opposite direction, took an early op- 
portunity to admonish him. 

“Now look-a-here, my boy. I’ll be plain 
with you, as one who loves you as I loved 
your father afore you; and many’s the glass 
of grog we’ve took together in Meaner’s 
tavern. But them was in the days w’en we 
was young and foolish like, and monstrously 
foolish, too, my boy. But in time we sees the 
evil of it, and we both ups and agrees thet 
we’ll be teetotalers, and keep each other up 
to’t, too. It was hard to break off. I’ll not 
deny, fer we’d both come to love our grog and 
to depend on’t, too ; but we did break off, and 
it’s many’s the year since I touched the damn- 
ing stuff — and thet’s no bad word as I’m a 
usin’ it, neither; leastways it’s exact and per- 
petooal truth. I’ve gone through all the ex- 
per’ences, and I’ll say fer it, it’s deceivin’. 
It promises a good time, and w’en I takes it 
at its word, w’y it ups and befuddles me so’s 


8o William Updick: His Philosophy 

I doesn’t know w’ether I’s havin’ a good time 
or not; and then f oilers it up with shivers 
and shakes, head-ache and liver-ache, and a 
gen’ral mis’ry from top to toe. And the 
good time it promises’s never yit come, onless 
it’s to the barman, who’s took in many’s the 
nickel from me, and it done him no good 
neither; and I reckon he ain’t had no good 
times neither. 

“Strong drink’s a liar No, I’ll not call it 
strong drink neither. It’s weak drink. Thet’s 
w’ot it is, and nothin’ else, fer it makes 
strong men weak and silly, don’t it? It en- 
ters a man’s mouth and comes out in weak 
and silly talk; and the nose’s got to blush fer 
the sins of the mouth. It’s water as I’ll call 
strong drink, fer didn’t Samson drink it? 
And it drives mills, and floats ships, and 
makes harvests. And w’ot can’t it do? But 
’toxicating liquor doubles men up and tumbles 
’em over into the gutter’s weak and ’s help- 
less’s a drownded ket. Keep to pure water if 
you’d be strong. Jack, my boy. Pure water’s 
good inside and outside. Grog’s well enough 
outside, but it’s awful bad inside. It gives 
men shivers in the legs, and in the head, too ; 


Something Practical to Say 8i 

and makes ’em see more’n they oughter, or 
wants to neither, fer the matter of thet. 
Adam’s ale’s better than the devil’s ale ev’ry 
time, my boy. I’d a deal rather hev a man 
a workin’ under me who drinks like a fish, 
than one who drinks like a alcohol lamp. 

“W’en grog goes in sense goes out. W’y 
I’ve knowed many’s the man as takes his 
drink as a night-cap to put him to sleep at 
night, and then as a eye-opener to wake him 
wide up w’en he gits up in the mornin’. Now 
w’ere’s the sense in thet? So they goes to 
bed meller, but they gits up rotten. Thet 
may not strike you as fine and perlite, Jack, 
but ain’t it true ? And truth’s w’ot we’s after. 

“W’en wine’s in wit’s out, and passions’s 
up, as I’ve heerd tell. And a man as’ll do a 
evil deed ’ll nerve himself to ’t with alcohol. 
The devil reaches many’s the man through 
drink; and through drink many’s the man as 
reaches the devil. Resist the devil, my boy, 
but flee from ’toxicatin’ drink, and run fer 
your life’s fast’s you ken. 

“It’s this drink thet injures men externally, 
internally, and eternally. I’ve heerd thet, 
and I’ve remembered it, and I b’lieves ev’ry 


82 William Updick: His Philosophy 

word of it, too. Remove the mask and strip 
the clothes off this ’toxicatin’ drink, and w’ots 
there? The sarpent and the adder. And 
we’s Scripter fer’t too. It’s like the snake, 
pritty, but deadly. The snake’s pritty. I’ll 
not deny it, some of ’em leastways. But be- 
cause it’s pritty to look at thet’s no reason 
w’y I should fool with it, is it? Liquor’s 
pritty, too. I’ll not say it ain’t. But because 
’tis thet’s no reason I should make a fool of 
myself and play with it, and git bit and 
p’isoned, is it? Oh, yes; it’s pritty, werry 
pritty — but it bites. 

“I knows thet alcohol preserves dead 
bodies, but thet don’t perwent it from de- 
stroyin’ livin’ bodies, and souls, too, fer the 
matter of thet, does it? I’ve heerd liquor 
called ardent sperits. They’s ardent lovers, 
is they? Well, you’d better not be ardent in 
your ’fection fer ’em, my boy. As long’s 
they wants you and you hasn’t your ’fection 
set on ’em, and don’t go a hankerin’ arter ’em, 
and lets ’em alone, no harm ken come. Drink 
opens many’s the chink in the purse. It shows 
up, as I’ve seen many’s the time, the empti- 
ness of the man’s purse. And more. I’ve 


Something Practical to Say 83 

knowed it to show up the contents of his 
stomick. 

“No, Jack, my boy, don’t drink this water 
of hell, and I s’pose it’s about all the drink 
they gits down there. It’ll tek all the money 
you git. It’ll destroy your health. It’ll ruin 
your repitation^ It’ll make you wretched. 
It’ll fit you fer hell. Thet’s wot it’ll do fer 
you. Now them’s werry plain words, but 
they’s true words, ev’ry one on ’em. 

“Temp’rance’s the best med’cine. It per- 
wents disease, perserves health, permotes 
good sperits, and makes a man comfor’able 
like in his own mind. Take it, my boy; and 
in good, big doses, too; even’s much’s tee- 
totalism won’t hurt you, but all the better. 

“Now don’t. Jack, my boy, go and throw 
your precious life and soul away. You’s jest 
a startin’ now. It’ll be easier fer you to stop 
now than ’twill be a year, a month, a week 
from now. Ev’ry day you’s a addin’ to the 
strength of the chain thet’s a bindin’ you. 
Come, give me your word thet you’ll stop the 
cursed drink this werry day and hour, and’ll 
never touch it again.” 

The young man listened to all his friend 


84 William Updick: His Philosophy 

said apparently unmoved; and, instead of an- 
swering in words, replied in action by walking 
out and off to the saloon for what had now 
come to be his nightly dram. 


CHAPTER XIV 


The Improved Industrial Conditions 

On the Monday morning after their meet- 
ing the men started to their work bright and 
early. Between employers and employees 
good feeling and good faith, peace and good- 
will prevailed. 

Unfinished work remained to be done ; and 
rush orders, some of them large ones, too, 
were frequently received. The tide of pros- 
perity rolled in, hence economic and indus- 
trial conditions rapidly improved. 

The change was noticeable in the homes, 
which were brightened up, many of them 
considerably, some having new pieces of fur- 
niture, bits of cheap bric-a-brac, rugs, or 
lamps, with an attempt at beauty, if nothing 
more. More papers and cheap magazines 
were taken; and even a new book or 
two appeared on home tables here and 
there. The churches felt the change. Men, 
women, and children were now able to 


86 William Updick: His Philosophy 

wear decent clothing; and, there being no 
Sunday work, many availed themselves of 
the privilege thus afforded to attend religious 
services. 

Even the saloons were affected by the 
change. The increase of wages, and the con- 
sequent brightening up of homes, and the 
lightening of the women’s burdens, made 
home more attractive. So that there were 
not so many as formerly who patronized the 
saloons and other places of evil resort, though 
it may be said there were still all too many. 

Streets and courts and alleys were im- 
proved. Old rookeries were torn down, and 
comfortable little houses erected on their 
sites. Backyards, cellars, and alley-ways un- 
derwent a cleaning up, for the residents, hav- 
ing something of self-respect restored, had 
respect unto their surroundings. 

Thus Sunday rest, increase of wages, seven 
days’ pay for six days’ work, produced a 
great revolution in the condition of these poor 
people and their environment, as it always 
will. 


CHAPTER XV 


The Wedding 

Time increased the opposition on the part 
of both families immediately concerned to the 
marriage of Mr. Poofer and Miss Cunster. 

Mr. and Mrs. Cunster threatened, indeed, 
to disown their daughter should she so de- 
mean herself and disgrace their family as to 
marry this poor fellow so far beneath them, 
for did he not live in the Court? — and made 
her life a burden and a torture by their active 
opposition. And Mrs. Poofer! Well, she 
fretted and worried, and scolded and 
stormed, until her son had little peace or 
comfort in his home. He was forbidden to 
enter the Cunster dwelling by the irate mas- 
ter of the house himself, neither would Mrs. 
Poofer in any wise tolerate the young woman 
in her presence. Hence, the meetings of the 
lovers were of necessity clandestine, the bitter 
opposition only serving, as it usually does, to 
make them both more determined in their 
purpose to marry. 


88 William Updick: His Philosophy 

But why prolong this intolerable condition 
of affairs in their respective homes? Why 
not be married at once, and done with it? 
Maybe then, when further opposition would 
prove useless, their parents would relent and 
be reconciled. So, indeed, pled Miss Cunster 
with her betrothed, who, it must be confessed, 
was rather disposed to hold back and put off 
the nuptials indefinitely. But she persisted, 
and pled, and wept, until at last one evening 
as they sat together on a bench in the park he 
yielded to her importunate entreaties to fix 
the next evening as the time for their wed- 
ding. 

Promptly at half past seven o’clock the 
following evening both were in the park 
ready to proceed to the minister’s house. Mr. 
Poofer was, of course, arrayed for the great 
occasion in his very best. And the bride about 
to be; how shall we do justice to her toilet? 
Her dress, of thin material, for the weather 
was warm, was fiery red in color. At her 
neck was a red bow, but of quite a different 
shade from that of the dress; and the hat 
she wore was trimmed with red of yet an- 
other shade, which goes to show that Miss 


The W edding 8 9 

Cunster was quite partial to red, and of all 
shades of red, too. 

They were married. And as they came 
forth from the house husband and wife she 
looked triumphantly happy; but he, worried 
and crestfallen enough. 

At the corner of her street they parted, he 
going to his home and she to hers. 

The bride, quite naturally, could not keep 
the secret locked up in her breast, but as soon 
as she entered the room where her father and 
mother were seated, he reading the evening 
paper, and she darning stockings, exclaimed in 
breathless haste : 

“Pop! Mom! Pm married. Married to 
Jimmy Poofer this very hour. There now! 
What are you a goin’ to do about it?” 

Her father and mother, however, were not 
so surprised as she supposed they would be, 
for they rather expected such an unhappy 
termination of “the love affair,” if such it 
might be called. 

Evidently excited, yet holding himself well 
under control, her father replied: 

“Now that you’re married, Vermilia, go 
and live with your husband. Let him take 


90 William Updick: His Philosophy 

care of you. You’ve made your bed, now lie 
in it. By Saturday evening you and all you 
have must go. And don’t never come near 
this house again, Vermy Cunster. I disown 
you. Don’t let me ever see you again. Go I 
Go I” 

She looked at her mother, who did not 
speak a word. 

Her feeble hopes shattered, her worst fears 
realized, the bride of an hour hurried to her 
room weeping, and spent the night in tears, 
and in heaping maledictions upon her incor- 
rigible parents. 

As to Mr. Poofer, he was not particularly 
anxious to divulge the secret of his marriage 
to his mother and Mr. Updick, who were 
having a pleasant chat together when he re- 
turned to his home. But the truth was in- 
stantly suspected by his friend, who at once 
accused him of being a benedict. 

“I know you’ve ben, gone, and done it, 
Jack, contrary to your Mom’s wishes, and 
mine, too, fer the matter of thet. You’ve ben 
and got married this werry night. How does 
I know it? By your looks. Now, Mrs. 
Poofer,” he continued, turning to the widow, 


The Wedding 91 

“it’s not fer me to ast him w’ere he’s a-goin’ 
to put up with his lawful and wedded wife, 
w’ether here or there, or sit up fer their- 
selves. I reckon it’s none of my bus’ness. 
But I’ll wentur the perdiction thet you’ll not 
hev her here, and they’ll not hev him there, 
and they’s got no money to sit up house- 
keepin’. So wot’ll they do? It’s easier to 
find a wife, my boy,” he said, turning to the 
young man, “than to feed one, you’ll find 
quick’s you ken say Ballymeney. Courtin’s 
werry agree’ble, but marryin’s the end on’t.” 

“Ah I” sighed the widow. 

“Now thet you’ve took the step. Jack, my 
boy, spend your evenin’s with your lawful 
and wedded wife and not in the grog shop. 
You’ve took her fer better or fer worse, as 
the ketechism says, don’t it? and you sees I 
ain’t fergot the lessons o’ the ketechism. Study 
it up. It’ll do you good. And you’ll not 
fergit it w’en you’re grown old and wants 
to teach it to your childrens. I hopes 
you ain’t took ’er fer the worse, my 
boy, but I fears. But mebbe it ain’t. Who 
knows? Make the best of your bargain, and 
let drink alone. Thet’s wot you’ve got to do. 


92 William Updick: His Philosophy 

Don’t go a cornin’ home from thet there 
saloon at two or three in the mornin’ and hev 
your wedded wife a gittin’ up and a ketchin’ 
cold, and a mournin’ fer her late husband, 
as I knows many’s the woman as has done it 
— many and many’s the one. 

“And w’ile I’m a givin’ you some good ad- 
wice, my boy. I’ll go further, and I’ll say 
don’t gamble. They does it at Bussley’s sa- 
loon, I’m told. If you bet, you’ll regret, and 
mebbe all the rest of this here mortal life. 
Lay no bets and make no debts. There, 
them’s good sound doctrines, ain’t they? 

“And I’ll add a word, too, ’bout sinful 
pleasures. Shun ’em as you would the plague 
of Indy. Short, sinful pleasures cost long 
and bitter sufferin’ and sorrer. Sins hatch out 
sorrers sure’s hens hatches out chicks. 

“The road to hell’s smooth, but it’s awful 
slip’ry. Many’s the man I sees a slippin’ and 
a slidin’ down faster and faster, till whizz 
and jewwhallop! they’s over the percipice, 
over and gone forever and ever. Amen — as 
the ketechism closes.” 

Through this long discourse the young 
man sat in sullen silence, with eyes bent upon 


93 


The Wedding 

the floor; and when Mr. Updick had con- 
cluded he rose slowly from his chair, and, 
without a word, not even so much as a good- 
night, went off to the saloon, where he 
spent the most of this first night of his mar- 
ried life, staggering home about three o’clock 
in the morning, to the alarm and distress of 
ins mother, and the evident displeasure of 
Mrs. Boveen and Mr. Maybeer on the floor 
below, who, roused from their peaceful 
slumbers, poked their heads out of their re- 
spective half-opened doors, and soundly be- 
rated him. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Stormy Times 

If peace and good-will prevailed between 
employers and employed they certainly did 
not prevail in every household. There were 
stormy times, for example, in Mrs. Poofer’s 
flat. 

Young Mr. Poofer insisted, and strenuous- 
ly so, upon bringing his bride home; and his 
mother as strenuously declared he should not. 
So bitter at times was the contention that Mr. 
Updick felt called upon to step in between 
them figuratively speaking, and act as a peace- 
maker. 

“Now don’t,” he pleaded, “be like two 
fightin’ cocks a flyin’ up, and a jumpin’ at each 
other. Thet’s not the way fer mother and 
son to be a goin’ on, leastways it ain’t the 
way of peace, as I looks at it.” 

The unruly son finally took his own way 
and brought his bride home, under the strong 
protest of his mother. And as for the bride. 


Stormy Times 95 

ner home-coming was anything but an agree- 
able experience, or at least would have proved 
such to most persons. There are some, how- 
ever, and she was one of the kind, who seem 
to take delight in a “scrimmage,” who seem 
to enjoy a “jawing,” and who are never so 
happy as when engaged in a “shindy.” 

How these two Poofer women did fight, 
even like the proverbial cat and dog, begin- 
ning the very moment when the bride stepped 
over the threshold of her new home! 

“I didn’t ast you here, Vermy Cunster; and 
I don’t want you here neither. You and 
Jimmy’d better git elsewheres, I can tell you,” 
was the greeting she received. 

“And I ain’t a mindin’ you, Mrs. Poofer. 
Pm Jimmy’s wife. And it’s him Pm a goin’ 
to live with, wherever he is. And you needn’t 
put on airs nor be cross neither, for I won’t 
stand it, that I won’t. There now — onct for 
all, I won’t stand it!” 

The battle, thus begun, waged fiercely, and 
continued along, with brief respites of no 
speaking, when each side gained strength and 
ammunition for its renewal. 

In these family feuds Mr. Poofer some- 


9 6 William Updick: His Philosophy 

times sided with his wife, sometimes with his 
mother, and sometimes with neither, but, 
getting out of the way of both, would slink 
off to the saloon, which he now frequently 
patronized, that he might be rid of the din 
and clatter in his home. Poor man! Be- 
tween these two women he led a dog’s life of 
it indeed. His wife sought in every way to 
prejudice him against his mother; and his 
mother sought to win him away from his 
wife. So the dove of peace having folded 
its wings and hied away, the harassed man 
sought more congenial environment. 

The presence of Mr. Updick, although it 
had no perceptible effect in cooling the fiery 
temper of the younger Mrs. Poofer, was de- 
cidedly effective in soothing the perturbed 
spirit of her mother-in-law. As a close friend 
of both mother and son that worthy man was 
naturally much distressed at these family 
infelicities. 

“Pll speak plain like to you. Jack,” he said 
to the young man soon after he had brought 
his bride home. “And you’ll not be offenced 
w’en your father’s friend, and your friend, 
too, fer the matter of thet, speaks out his 


Stormy Times 97 

mind plain and simple like. You’ve married 
a tartar, Jack, my boy. Thet’s plain’s Dona- 
ghadee. You knows it. I knows it. And 
I’ll guess your mother knows it, too. Wot 
then? W’y, w’en the weather’s stormy, 
weather the storm. Put up with the change 
you’ve made, make the best on’t, and manage 
your wessel accordin’. Sometimes you’ll hev 
to put on all sail, and scud afore the breeze, 
and steer out and off into deep water; and 
sometimes furl ev’ry sail, and drift along. 
Thet’s wot you’ve got to do. Jack, my boy. 
Be captain of your wessel. A ship as has two 
captain’s like a wessel with two rudders, fore 
and aft, a both bein’ pulled at onct. It’s on- 
handy; werry onhandy. 

“I knows men as was brave, and marches 
up afore a gun ready to blow ’em up, but 
afore a broomstick in their beloved wife’s 
hands trimbles, and quails, and falls like a 
tree afore a African simon. Be brave, my 
boy, and stand up firm-like, wot e’er be the 
tides. 

“I’ve heerd tell of the jawbone of an ass 
thet did somethin’, and they’s plenty of ’em 
to-day a doin’. 


98 William Updick: His Philosophy 

“If your wife’s steel ready to strike, don’t 
be flint to make the fire fly. You ken shet 
up an umberel, but you can’t shet up so easy 
a scoldin’ woman, I reckon. 

“But, wotever troubles comes don’t go a 
seekin’ to drown ’em in drink, or the drink’ll 
drownd you. Swim in sin, and you’ll sink in 
sorrer. Now you knows. Jack, I’m ag’in all 
liquor drinkin’. And I’m agoin’ to speak 
out plain like to you onct more, my boy. I 
fears you’s a gittin’ to like your grog all too 
well; like the man who kisses his dog, and 
the dog ups and bites ’im on the lip. 

“Pots of beer costs many’s the tear. I’ve 
seen it, my boy. Oh, yes; I’ve seen it, and I 
knows, too, thet beer makes men queer, and 
worse, brings ’em to their bier. And I’ll put 
in a word ag’inst baccy, too. I’d adwise you 
to leave it strictly alone, as my mother ad- 
wises me w’en a boy and a sneakin’ to the 
pantry to snuckle some jell. ‘Leave it 

strictly alone, Willie,’ she says, ‘or ,’ and 

she says no more, but I fills out the blank in 
my mind’s eye, ’s the poet says, and I goes 
without the jell. Now, then, leave this baccy 
strictly alone, or . And I’ll fill out the 


Stormy Times 99 

blank fer you, too. It’ll play tunes on your 
nerves, and jangle ’em all up, and thet makes 
you all cross and ugly like. And I’ve heerd, 
too, of baccy heart. And it ain’t the kind of 
a heart you need neither, my boy. I’ll not 
deny there was the time w’en I enjoyed my 
pipe of baccy’s well’s any man. But w’en I 
sees my father in his sixties all broke up like 
by his use of it, I says, look a here, Billy Up- 
dick, you’d a better stop, and stop instanter, 
or you’ll be like your father, nervous and 
good-fer-nothin’, and old afore your time. So 
I goes up to my room in the loft, pitches my 
pipe outer the winder, and jest then a horse 
comes along, steps onto it, and smashes it to 
smithereens ; and the little baccy I has I 
scatters to the winds, ’s the poet says, though 
there ain’t much po’try as I ken see ’bout the 
filthy weed, w’ich it’s right and accoorately 
called. 

“But there! I’ve got off the track. But 
we’ll git on ag’in, and git back to your wedded 
wife. Treat ’er fair and square. Jack. If 
she nags like a persistent, buzzin’ fly a 
’noyin’, a irritatin’, a raspin’ to the nerves, 
and arousin’ evil passions in the bosom, w’y 


100 William Updick: His Philosophy 

don’t give way. It’s foolish to sprain yer 
wrist a slappin’ at a buzzin’ insec’. 

“Your life’ll not be all sunshine. And I 
reckon it’s better so, fer I’ve heerd thet all 
sunshine makes the desert, and I ’spose it’s 
true. 

“Marriage opens the eyes thet love’s 
blinded; and they’s wonderful disclosures. I’ll 
guess. W’en the primpin’s, and the smiles, 
and the wiles’s wantin’, the dishabill, — and 
thet’s French, too, my boy, as I’ll tek the lib- 
erty of a repeatin’ ag’in fer emph’sis, — the 
dishabill ain’t so takin’. 

“They’s plural wives out yon in Utah, they 
says, but they’s sing’lar ones right in this 
werry town. You’ve not got plural wives. 
Jack, but mebbe you’ve got a sing’lar one. If 
so, go cautious like, tek in your sails, go slow 
round the sharp rocks, and make your way 
into deep and quiet water. There now I 
Good-night,” and Mr. Updick departed. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A Separation 

Things did not move along at all smoothly 
at the Poolers’, as we have seen, Mr. Pooler 
declaring, with considerable exaggeration, it is 
true, that his home was a “perfect hell,” 
meaning a great deal thereby. The adjective 
“perfect” does not seem to agree with, nor 
fit the noun “hell,” but doubtless there is dis- 
agreement and misfit in hell, too, where every- 
thing is at cross purposes with everything 
else. 

How the tongues of the two women did 
clatter and clack I There was perpetual war- 
fare between these two, with brilliant ma- 
neuvers, quick attacts, skulking guerilla skir- 
mishes, with deception, and treachery, and 
feints, and blustering, and displays of cour- 
age — all of the arts of warfare, indeed, in 
all their perfection. And this state of war- 
fare continued for a whole month, as long 
as the women lived under the same roof. 


102 William Updick: His Philosophy 

Wearied at length with the long-protracted 
war, with peace nowhere in sight, young 
Mrs. Poofer pled with her husband to move 
anywhere out of sight and sound of “the old 
tarmagant,” as she called her mother-in-law, 
even threatening to leave him did he not 
accede to her wish at once. . The elder Mrs. 
Poofer, anxious as she was to be rid of her 
belligerent daughter-in-law, was by no means 
anxious to be rid of her son, for she had 
some affection for him; and then, too, his 
week’s board, which, to his credit be it said, 
he always paid to her promptly when he had 
work, was a great consideration. The 
thought of living alone, and of having to take 
in more washing to meet expenses, or of rent- 
ing her son’s room to another, who might 
prove disagreeable and perhaps delinquent as 
to rent, worried her not a little. 

One day at noon after a stormy battle, 
when, to speak figuratively, shot and shell had 
fallen thick and fast, Mr. Poofer came home 
to find no dinner ready, his mother flushed 
and excited, his wife seated on her packed 
trunk weeping bitterly, and declaring her firm 
determination not for worlds to stay another 


A Separation 103 

day in that place to be insulted, abused, and 
fought with. She would go home first, she 
said, that she would. If he didn’t care, she 
did. If he wouldn’t go, she would. If he 
was afraid of her father, she wasn’t. And 
so on and so on. 

The young husband, seeing his wife in 
tears, and hearing her recount again, as so often 
before, his mother’s ill-treatment of her, 
was touched, and his heart was softened 
toward her, but hardened toward his mother, 
when he soundly berated in language obscure 
to the more refined. Then he remembered 
to have seen a house for rent in Green Court, 
a half a mile away, and hastening thither 
he found it was still to let. Hurrying to the 
agent he took the house, paying a week’s rent 
in advance, for he had just received his week’s 
pay. He came into immediate possession of 
the house, and that very afternoon a wagon 
appeared to take his wife’s trunk, and the 
furniture of the one room, to their new home. 

Mrs. Poofer, Jr., began housekeeping by 
sweeping out the floor of the room, which 
was to be their bedroom, with an old well- 
worn broom she happily discovered in the 


104 William Updick: His Philosophy 

back yard; and directing the arrangement of 
the few pieces of furniture and the trunk as 
they were unloaded and brought in from the 
wagon. 

There was furniture enough for one room 
only, and all the other nine or ten rooms of 
the house were bare and cheerless. The 
young couple had no cooking utensils, and no 
stove to cook with if they had had the pots 
and pans, and no food to be prepared if they 
had had facilities for cooking. There were 
few pennies remaining in the family purse, 
so their first meal in their new home consisted 
of a small loaf of bread and pint of milk. 
This was not an ideal start in housekeeping, 
perhaps, yet the young couple really took 
some pleasure in being alone in their new’ 
home. That night Mr. Poofer even forsook 
the saloon and went without his dram; and 
his wife — well, she kept down her temper, 
and held in her tongue with bit and bridle, 
as it were. 

So the young couple started housekeeping. 
But Mrs. Poofer was amibitious; she desired 
to make some mark in the neighborhood. She 
roused herself, therefore, to meet the exi- 


A Separation 105 

gency, and the very next day had the house 
furnished from top to bottom with second- 
hand furniture — and much of it looked to be 
third or fourth-hand — and with just as little 
as was possible to get along with if the 
rooms were to be occupied, all of which was 
procured on the installment plan, of 
course. But why furnish the whole house for 
two persons ? A rudely painted sign fastened 
at the side of the front door bore the follow- 
ing announcement to the general public, 
“Boarding — Mrs. Poofer.'' And there is 
found the answer to the question. 

Boarders came one after another until the 
house was full. Some came and, as was to be 
expected, mysteriously disappeared in a day 
or two without settling their bills. Gradually, 
however, came a better and a more perma- 
nent class of boarders, who paid their bills 
more or less promptly, hard working men and 
women, honest at least. As to the kind of 
board paid for, however, let nothing be said. 

Seeing his wife so energetic, and so suc- 
cessful, too, in her venture, Mr. Poofer 
thought his own energy needed a rest. So he 
lessened his days of work at the mill and 


io6 William Updick: His Philosophy 

increased his hours at the saloon. He descen- 
ded lower and lower, soon becoming a lazy, 
careless, shiftless, drunken lounger at the cor- 
ner groggery. A corresponding change was 
noted, too, in Mrs. Poofer, who became 
slouchy, untidy, slovenly, a common scold, 
quarreling and fault-finding, not only with 
her husband, but with her boarders at times 
as well, and losing many a good boarder in 
consequence. 

The visits of Mr. Updick to this home were 
few and far between, for Mrs. Poofer had 
taken an intense dislike to him, and was at 
no pains to conceal it, for she regarded him 
as the friend of her husband’s mother, and 
consequently her enemy; and then, too, Mr. 
Poofer was rarely at home. When Mr. Up- 
dick did come it was always with words of 
sound common, sense and tender admonition 
for the wayward young man, whom he still 
loved as he might have loved his own son. 

“Up and be a doin’. Jack, my boy,” he said 
to him on one occasion. “Put a drive to your 
work. By stiddy goin’ on the hands of the 
clock, and of men, too, does their day’s work. 
You’re a commutin’ crime by wastin’ time. 


A Separation 107 

A lazy man’s tinder fer the sparks of tempta- 
tion. Up^ and be a doin’. Shame on you, 
Jack Poofer, to be a lettin’ your belovin’ wife 
do, and you a doin’ little or nothin’. Runnin’ 
dogs feels no fleas. Be industrious and 
trifles’ll not wex you. Work’s a fine tonic, 
good and wholesome. It warms w’en coal’s 
dear. You grumbles and growls, my boy. 
Now work’s a good antidoty fer a peewish, 
complainin’ sperit. 

“You says, look at your wife. Yes, I’ll look 
at ’er; and I’ll say fer her thet she’s a hustler, 
and in consekence she’s not sluggish and 
complainin’, but puts energy even into her 
temper, as you well knows. Her tongue 
works’s well’s her hands. And I reckon 
’twould be’s well if her tongue was put under 
lock and key, so’s ’twouldn’t run dare off, and 
be sure of a rest. 

“Rouse up yourself. Jack, my boy. Be up 
and a doin’. Be up and a doin’. Be up and a 
doin’. They’s rules fer you. 

“You’re a keepin’ late hours, too. I’m 
afeerd. The key to success ain’t the night- 
key. Late hours! W’ere does they lead? 
To matrimonny or pen’tent’ary. They’s led 


io8 William Updick: His Philosophy 

you to matrimonny. Keep on at ’em and 
they’ll lead you a merry dance to the pen’- 
tent’ary. You’s a livin’ in a zig-zag sort of 
a way, and the zag’s worse’n the zig. You’re 
a workin’ mighty hard fer the devil’s wages, 
I reckon, if you ain’t fer man’s; and you’ll git 
’em all paid up soon ’nough if you don’t mend 
your ways. They’s men so blinded by their 
evil passions, and ap’tites, and lusts thet they 
suffer more to be damned — and I’m not usin’ 
the word bad, but solemn-like — than they 
does to be saved. Ain’t it true, Jack? Don’t 
be one of ’em. Don’t! Don’t! 

“Slain by his own wickedness and evil hab- 
its might. I’m a thinkin’, be truthfully writ 
on many’s the tombstun. 

“Now, my boy, you’d better git out a re^ 
wised wersion of your life, kerrect the errors, 
add a souplement, and alter the type, as I 
onct heerd a bookman say to his young man 
who was a sowin’ his thorns and this’les. And 
it’s werry good adwise fer you. And I’ll give 
it to you jest as’t stands.” 

But the homely, loving admonitions of his 
friend were unheeded by the wilful young 
man ; and three days a week was the most he 


A S eparation 1 09 

worked, the remainder being spent for the 
greater part in squandering his wages at the 
groggery and among evil associates. 

A son was born in due time to Mr. and 
Mrs. Poofer, and the elder Mrs. Poofer, 
brushing aside her feelings of animosity to- 
ward the young mother, made bold to call 
upon the new arrival into this vale of con- 
trarieties. And there over the new-born babe 
a reconciliation, partial at least, was effected 
between the two women, and between Mr. 
Poofer and his mother, the latter returning to 
her home as proud as any grandma could be 
of her grandson, telling Mr. Updick that he 
ought to go and see the baby, for he was a 
wonder. She had never seen his like before, 
except Jimmy, and the dear child was so like 
his father. 

The coming of the child, however, did not 
cause the father to mend his ways. The fret- 
ting of the infant annoyed him, and drove 
him even more from home, though, dear 
knows, he was little enough at home before; 
and drink sank him lower and lower in degra- 
dation and sin. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Which Is the Last 

Eight years have passed. Mr. Pooler con- 
tinued in his evil course, going with accelerat- 
ing speed down the broad way that leads to 
destruction, until he died in agony produced 
by alcohol and debauchery, befriended by Mr. 
Updick to the very last. 

His widow, more careless and slovenly in 
appearance and manner, and in the care of her 
house, continues to keep boarders, her father 
and mother not relenting a whit, but stub- 
bornly rejecting all her advances toward 
reconciliation, and obstinately refusing to help 
her or her child in any way whatsoever. 

The boy, young Master Poofer, inheriting 
and early exhibiting his father’s careless, indo- 
lent disposition, and his mother’s slovenliness 
and fiery temper, an unhappy combination, 
runs the streets uncontrolled and uncontroll- 
able, a constant worry and trouble to his 
mother, and a terror and pest to the neigh- 
borhood. 


Which is the Last 


III 


Mr. Updick, barred out by the fiery tem- 
per and lashing tongue of Mrs. Poofer, Jr., 
since the death of his young friend no longer 
visits that home. He still continues, however, 
his friendly visits to Mrs. Poofer, Sr., but has 
not yet proposed marriage, nor does he seem 
likely ever so to do — but who knows ? When 
we hear of him again it may be as a benedict. 

The temperance principles set forth and 
earnestly advocated by Mr. Updick, while in- 
effective in working reform in the case of Mr. 
Poofer, bore fruit in other directions, so that 
the patrons of the saloons and groggeries and 
dives have been considerably lessened, and the 
receipts very measurably decreased. 

The result of the strike for just wages and 
Sunday rest has proven most satisfactory to 
both employers and employees, as of course it 
would. All concerned rejoice in the improved 
conditions, and wherever just wages and 
Sunday rest are granted, like conditions and 
like satisfaction will prevail. 





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